


Story about a Joker and the Thief

by ForcedRedacted



Series: Men & little Monsters [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Asciancakes, Boredom is the real BBEG, Ch 69 smut, Ch 89 smut, Ch. 28 Smut, Ch. 7 Smut, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Frenemies, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I've given up on naming the chapters at this point, Jumping on the Emet-Selch train, Minor smut in ch. 30, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Ryne MVP as of ch 42, So far into AU territory that weve not only gone off the edge of the map, Some in ch 86 too, Spoilers, Tataru MVP of ch 94, The rest of the Scions are there too sometimes, Urianger is a good friend, Urianger may be the real Hero, but lost the damn thing too, female WoL, lore bending, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-07-30 20:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 348,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForcedRedacted/pseuds/ForcedRedacted
Summary: I'll tell you all the story, about the joker and the thief in the night.Chapter 18 (100 kudos milestone prompt of 'a casual day from the perspective of everyone else') is up!Chapter 40 (200 kudos milestone prompt 'bittersweet with Solus and his Wife') is upChapter 74 (300 kudos milestone prompt 'Convocation meeting without the boring work') is up!





	1. Can you see the joker flying over

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS  
WoL was a vague figure but after twenty plus chapters I've finally cemented her in my mind as a female midlander hyur.  
As I'm starting to get burnt out (my average before I started this fic being 2k words a day, on again off again as whimsy struck me) I might take a step back and slow down again with my posting. I almost hit 100k words in a week, and I've started unconsciously grinding my teeth again.

She had always been a thief in this life. Of course, when she had been practically adopted by the Scions she had greatly curbed her tendencies. But still, from time to time...

It was only to keep her senses sharp, she told herself, even as she lounged along a tree branch in the Rak'tika Greatwood with a stolen pie. Contently munching away, the Warrior watched the unending weaves of light overhead that she was there to stop. It made everything more difficult, and for the first time in her life she had gone from wearing dark colours and blacks to light greys. A necessary change, considering how black stood out on a yellow plain, or lavender fields dotted with light grey trees.

Still, her major modus operandi was to adapt and thrive, so with a heavy heart she tucked her worn blacks into the trunk at the foot of the bed in her room. She snuck out the window to learn the lay of the land and see what mischief, exactly, she could get into. That had been two lightwardens ago, and now with the third on the horizon...

"My, I never would have thought you would have stolen from the Blessed. Does their lack of resources not cause such an action to strain your poor heart?"

She would have known that voice anywhere.

"It's just a pie. Besides, they were going to give it to me anyways. Now, I get _two_ pies. Want a slice?" Tilting her head, she offered the stone platter towards the thigh that had materialized a few feet away along the branch even as the Ascian idly swung his legs. "Gotta admit I'm surprised you're here. I would have thought lounging on a branch to be so terribly boring for you."

The snap of fingers produced a plate and a fork, and the Warrior braced her elbow against the branch while Emet-Selch dug out a slice and huffed a soft laugh. "It _is_, but I appear to have been been sufficiently bribed for the time being. Ohh, royal grapes?"

"I think so." She shifted, easing onto her stomach carefully so that she didn't end up accidentally rolling off and plummeting the distance to the ground. Pushing herself up so that she could straddle the branch and keep balanced, the Warrior dug into the pie as she studied the Ascian and tilted her head to the side.

White gloves, almost delicately holding a fork he had pulled out of thin air. Violet hair so dark it seemed almost black at times, disturbed only by a shocking streak of white and framing a face that a smile sat naturally on. Pale gold eyes that were watching her in return, one brow quirked as his forkful of filling paused in front of his pale skinned face.

"I've never seen an Ascian eat before. I was half convinced that you lot didn't need to." She smiled easily, before stuffing more pie into her mouth and chewing enthusiastically. It had a sweet flavour, slightly tart, and the Warrior carefully shifted while she ate to bring one leg up and fold it across the branch even as she braced herself with her unoccupied hand so that she could balance the pie on the side of her knee.

"The mortal forms we take _do_ require maintenance, you know. We eat, sleep and breath as you do."

"But your other forms don't, right?" She raised both hands as he set down the fork, lips pursing when she continued. "Lahabrea and Igeyorhm, they fused together into a legless, floating Ascian form. I can't imagine them floating up to a bar like that and ordering an ale. The lack of anatomy doesn't seem like it would let you, you know."

He laughed at that, shaking his head even as he swung his legs once more. "Truly, we are blessed to have a foe that is more concerned with our ability to use a washroom than our plans to facilitate a Rejoining."

"Hey, I already know what your end game is, but that's an unpleasant topic for another day. It's you guys I don't know a whole lot about. I have pie, you have information. I propose a trade." She eyed the pie, gauging how much she could eat and deciding that he must have been bored indeed to have joined her on the branch. Perhaps, she mused to herself, it was time to have some fun. "I've had roughly one slice worth, you've got half a slice left. I bet you I can eat more of this than you can, so that leaves one more slice for you. Looks like I better make it a really good question."

"You bet? What would be the wager then, and what would be the stakes?" Setting down his plate (a delicate looking affair, for all that it balanced perfectly) and pointing towards the Warrior with the fork, Emet-Selch quirked a brow once more.

"Oh please, how often is it that you feed that form more than the minimum to survive? Look at you, you're thinner than Urianger. You couldn't -possibly- eat more of this pie than I could." Looking back up to catch his eye, she grinned as he smirked and set a hand down on the branch so that he could lean towards her.

"Wager, Hero, and stakes."

"I bet I can eat more than half of this pie before you eat more than half of this pie. If I win, I get your coat. Not a copy of your coat, your actual coat and you can't replace it, for an entire day. If you win, you get to choose the parameters of the next challenge and, provided it isn't something I find morally repugnant, I'll be obligated to participate." Her grin grew at his baffled expression, and he quirked a brow once more.

"My coat? Desperate to see what lies beneath it, are we?"

"The hell I am. That thing is fur trimmed, soft and probably worth more than my swords." Holding out her hand (the one that didn't have drying pie filling stuck to it, considering she hadn't thought to steal a fork) she waited and wiggled her fingers at him. "Well?"

He shook her hand, matching her grin with his own even as he reached out and pulled the pie from her lap.

* * *

They were both lounging on the branch now, heads a few feet apart and squinting up at the ever present light. Purple stained one of the Ascian's gloves from where he had snagged some filling and stuffed it unceremoniously into his face during their ensuing struggle for the pie, and the Warrior was busy scrubbing her face where she had lunged and managed to basically face plant into it.

"You cheated."

Huffing out an amused sound, Emet-Selch balanced the empty pie plate on his stomach and stretched idly. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to. The only rules stated were that I must eat more of the pie than you and the reward."

"You stole the tin and floated out of reach! I can't fly. That's not fair."

"Not fair doesn't mean I cheated if you failed to properly lay out the rules, Hero." His words drew a grumble from the Warrior as she let a leg dangle off the branch and draped a forearm over her eyes. "Besides, you pushed me. It's hardly my fault that you thought I might try and relinquish the pie in favour of a grip on the branch."

"You did it first!" Sitting up slightly, she rooted through her pockets before she found the flask of water (she never traveled without it, and as much as she had once preferred to keep it filled with booze nothing made survival more difficult than dehydration and being drunk) and poured some of the contents into her hand so that she could properly clean her face.

"You had the pie." He sounded insufferably smug, and so she turned slightly and caught his eye before giving the flask a contemplative look. "-Please-, I've already won. Now then, what to challenge you at..."

"You know, I almost didn't think you'd accept the wager." Her expression softened slightly, and she sipped the water before offering the flask out, ignoring the playful urge to dump it over him. He sighed and propped himself up on an elbow, setting the pie tray aside so that he could accept the flask and take a sip. "I'm mighty curious as to why you did."

"Boredom, mostly. Why did you make it? Am I not the enemy?" Shifting and tucking in his elbow so that he could partially roll and hand the flask back, the Ascian's brow furrowed as she accepted it and capped it.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I was bored too, and I wouldn't wish that fate on anybody." Mouth opening to continue, she paused as Y'shtola's voice echoed faintly from below, calling her name and sounding worried.

"Looks like the Hero of the Hour is needed once again." Emet-Selch's lips twisted into a smirk, and the Warrior sighed. "Should I tell them what you've been up to?"

"And ruin a perfectly good trust-building exercise? Only if you want to."

And with that she was gone, slipping along the branches and making her way down the trunk of the tree, leaving him there to contemplate the purple staining his glove and humming thoughtfully.

* * *

"Well... this is embarrassing. In my defense, they are surprisingly tenacious." Her head came up at that, and she looked over to watch as Emet-Selch looked around to take stock of the group. "So - what trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?"

He must have been bored indeed, she thought to herself, and so she stepped forward to tell him the story. A summary, a brief run down of all the highlights. All delivered in the same thin, flat tone that probably spoke volumes about how she had boxed her emotions so that she could deal with them later, and had him quirking one of those ever-so expressive brows and nodding slowly. The puzzle. The chase. The hole. The antidote, and the final action of Y'shtola.

"Well, well. What an intriguing turn of events. My condolences, by the way. 'Tis never easy to lose the ones we love." A polite bow was offered to the Warrior, though he straightened and quirked a brow as Thancred narrowed his eyes. "Well, she is dead, isn't she? Wishing it were otherwise will not make it so."

"That _you_ should be indifferent to her loss is no surprise. But to us, she was a friend. The best of friends." If looks could kill, Thancred's glare would have probably dropped the Ascian on the spot and set fire to the corpse, and as the silence stretched between them it was clear that Emet-Selch understood that perfectly. Still, the Warrior narrowed her eyes as she thought more on what had happened. Y'shtola had smiled, and that wasn't the look of someone plummeting to their death. And the wind...

"You have something on your mind. What is it?" Minfilia's voice broke the silence, and the Warrior glanced over at her.

"After she fell, there was a powerful gust of wind as if from nowhere. I half expected it to have buoyed her back up to the ledge, but..."

"Pray, recount to us again that which thou witnessed in the ruins, omitting not the slightest detail."

And so she did. The two-owl puzzle. The chase. The meeting. The trap. The hole. The antidote, and the final action of Y'shtola. The way their foe had pursued. The arrival of reinforcements, and everything between.

Thancred's head lifted slightly, frown shifting to a look of realization as he breathed out a single word.

"Flow..."

All eyes went to the gunblade, and he looked around with a glimmer of hope lifting his voice. "The teleportation magic she used to spirit us away from Ul'dah after the bloody banquet! I recall a similar gale in the tunnel before it took effect."

"Interesting. I thought I sensed a brief disturbance in the Lifestream. How reassuring to know it was not my imagination." And then all eyes were on the Ascian, who straightened and blinked, glancing about the group. Ever so slightly, he tilted his face to the side, watching the group out of the corner of his eyes. "I felt it only once, I should mention. Which would suggest she is still adrift on it's currents."

"Then I fear she may yet be lost to us - for it was only by the grace of the elementals that she was plucked from that great aetherial river." Urianger frowned, lowering his head slightly as he wracked his brain for anything that might be useful as the room fell silent once more only to be broken by a resigned sigh.

"Oh... Very well. I'll go and fetch her."

* * *

Arms still folded, the Ascian watched the Scions make their way back along the path. They were excited and relieved and periodically checking to make sure Y'shtola was actually there, hale and whole. He probably would have kept watching them, expression masking his thoughts if not for the slight nudge of his lamp against his elbow. Glancing over and down, he reached to accept it and then let his eyes flit upwards until they found the Warrior's.

"Thank's." She looked tired now, relieved and wearing the kind of smile that that was glad and sad all at once. "I mean it. For helping us, and for letting us use your lantern."

"We both know such tender moments are nothing if not _momentary_. Before long, they will remember their many differences, and return to squabbling." Weighing the lantern in his hands, he idly turned it over and blinked at the slight corner of paper that it certainly hadn't had when he had given it to her. He reached to thumb it but was stopped as the Warrior's hand settled atop his.

"Maybe. But she'll be here to squabble with, and most of her arguments come from a place that pulls out hair when people are being idiots and getting themselves into trouble. She's a worrier, though you wouldn't really know it to look at her." The hand patted his, before she started to amble away with a stretch. "Double thanks for the clothes-ray!"

"That would be triple thanks, I believe..." Emet-Selch murmured, though by then she was too far away. A snap of his fingers sent the lantern and the mystery edge away, a puzzle for another time, before he was idly ambling along as well. By the time he had caught up, they were already discussing the path forward.

"Will you be joining us?" Minfillia glanced over as he approached, and he was spared the effort of answering when the Warrior chuckled and leaned to catch the child's eye.

"The light makes it hard for him to do anything, so he's probably tired after rooting through the Lifestream to recover Y'shtola." She straightened and grinned even as she met his gaze. "You've worked hard, so take a break yeah? I hear that there's a baker around her somewhere that makes the _best_ fruit pies, and I think you've more than earned one."

The Ascian smirked at the reminder of their last wager, and inclined his head.

* * *

He would have expected her to be at the festival, dancing with the Blessed and celebrating the return of the night sky, except that he had come to understand her in the time he had spent watching the Scions. Just as he had a working mask, so too did she, but while hers was a smile what lay beneath was a great dislike of crowds. An appreciation for the distraction festivities bring, surely, but also a preference for interactions on a smaller scale. Twenty people was about when her smile started to become a little fixed at the corners of her mouth, he had noted.

She liked to watch. A shared trait, something they had in common. He had admitted as much in the cave before explaining what the murals meant.

Knowing that he would only bring the party mood down (though making Thancred's face fall into that partial sneer, partial glare any time he came into sight was becoming increasingly amusing) the Ascian instead took to the trees. Unhindered by gravity, unfettered by the now-absent light, he drifted silently along until he found her nestled in the crook of a branch, leaning to one side and staring up at the stars as the faint music drifted through the trees.

"Well, well. The Hero of the ho-"

"Don't call me that." The words were out before she was able to stop them, and with a grimace the Warrior twisted to peer through the darkness, trying to find him. He drifted to a halt, caught off-guard by the bitterness that laced her tone before it was gone, replaced with a sheepish, if cordial one."... Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm a bit drunk. Can I offer you some forgiveness-bribery wine?"

"You may." Emet-Selch drifted into view, folding his arms as she blinked at him. After a moment of contemplation, she offered the bottle out.

"Did you steal this too?" Accepting the bottle, he partially turned it and inspected the glass for a label, tisking when he found none.

"I mean, I don't think it counts as stealing when they're just giving them away yeah?" A slight stretch had the Warrior hunching her shoulders and readjusting her balance to keep from falling out of the fork in the branches she had settled into. "It's bitter. I never liked wine, it's a drink for remembering."

"Oh? What is it that you prefer, then?" Turning back to face her, the Ascian lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a sip, only to grimace and pull it away, eyeing it.

"Rums and brandys, actually, though I rarely say no to a good ale. See what I mean?" She gestured to the bottle, and he hummed out a tone of agreement before snapping his fingers and offering the bottle back out.

"Try this."

"Y'know, some part of me thinks you're liable to poison me but if that's the way I go, at least I go doing the thing I enjoy the most." Accepting the bottle, the Warrior lifted it slightly in a salute only to take a sip and pause. Squinting at the bottle, she hummed thoughtfully and then took another. "... Hey now, that's not half bad."

"Sitting in a tree?" Emet-Selch held out a hand, gesturing to the bottle. She relinquished it with an easy laugh.

"Drinking with someone I'm probably going to end up having to punch in the face later. Enemy is a pretty strong term at this point. Frenemy? Hmm hmm _hmm_..." The Warrior watched idly as he tipped the bottle back and sipped from it, before she carefully pushed herself up and wobbled slightly. "Ffff-uhh, that's herm. Stronger than I thought it'd be. Letting me plummet to my death and break my neck'd be a _terribly_ boring way for me to go."

"Are you hoping that I might catch you if you slip and fall?" A smirk played about his mouth as he tucked one hand on his hip, watching her try and carefully navigate the branch while slipping and cursing quietly. Idly, the Ascian drifted along, keeping pace as she made it to one of the more level, wider branches and sat down with her back against the trunk to dangle her legs over either side.

"Yep. That's still wine, isn't it."

"It is." Touching down near by, he blinked as she squinted at him and reached out, making a grabby hand towards where she likely presumed the bottle was. He responded by stepping back and holding it against his chest, turning and canting his head to the side. "I think you've had quite enough, Hero."

"For someone so set against boredom, you seem like awfully little fin. Fun. Awfully no fun." Lowering her hands to stabilize her grip against the branch, the Warrior hiccuped quietly and made a face. "Alright, I'm drunk. You win this round, Youuu."

"You? I -do- have a name, you know." Settling down onto his rump, Emet-Selch scoffed and took a sip, hoarding the bottle close to him as she reached out for it lazily and fell short of the mark with a grumble.

"Same, but that never seems to make you use it. Hero this, Warrior that. Like all that's left've me is some _title_. You've got lots of names. Until you use mine? I won't use yours." Sniffing haughtily, she shifted to bring a leg up and tuck her foot against the bark, knee bent so that she could rest her elbow against it. "... I know. That you're _really_ old. But, you know? I'm getting there. Faster than I should be. My joints _ache_, and they're not meant to for a bit yet. A hard life of flexible-ness and jumping out of windows. My _scars_ have scars. I've earned every ilm of ground I've walked, and that's fine, and I know that next to you, next to how long you've been around, how much you've had to do for your people and your primal that it's got to hurt too, but... But there you are. Floating around, smirking and smiling and I look at that and feel like I can't stop now."

"Lovely. You _ramble_ when you're drunk." The Ascian sounded utterly unimpressed, shaking his head even as he took another sip. It was good wine, a recreation of something he had commissioned shortly after the founding of the Garlean empire, and sighed as it warmed him.

"No. Look. Well, yes, but. _But_." She held up a hand, face scrunching up. "I feel. Like I've known you forever. Like I've been leaning on air where you were supposed to be."

He was thankful for the darkness and how it hid most of his expression, silent for the moment as he tilted his face down and contemplated the bottle in his hands.

"You could've turned that wine into _anything_, but you just turned it into better wine. A drink for remembering. You watch. I watch. You've found me twice, when none've the others did. I know you're not gunna answer, so I won't ask, but..." She paused, sighing and leaning back as she watched what she could of the Ascian in the darkness. "... Y'know, I used to have moments. People I met what I felt like I'd known, and we always got on well. After what you said, I started thinking maybe bits've me were remembering bits of them, that maybe there was a recognition there that was from how people were all splintered."

"_I_ think that you're drunk, and that I have our next little wager." Emet-Selch lifted his face, smile in place before holding out the bottle.

"Suspicious, I thought you'd cut me off. I'm listening." Reaching and snagging the bottle, the Warrior shook it slightly to listen to the contents. "Hmm, almost full still..."

"My bet is thus. You won't be able to drink that and stay awake. Instead, you're going to fall asleep in the tree, and my amusement will be derived from your fellows efforts to find you in the morning." A snap of his fingers produced a second bottle, which he held out for her to inspect. She accepted it, taking a sip and tilting her head to the side as she identified it as the same wine that was in her own bottle. "And you have to drink it before I drink my own."

"So I gotta drink my label-less bottle's contents, climb down, and make my way to my rooms? That's all? And if I lose?" She idly swirled the contents of one of the bottles as he thought about it for a moment.

"If you lose, let's see... What would be amusing and yet not - what was it you said - morally repugnant?" Tapping his lips with a gloved finger, Emet-Selch leaned in, and then produced the note she had tucked into the lantern before returning it to him. "If you lose, I get to cash this in in _public_. And if I lose, I'll give you my coat for a day. A fair deal?"

"Deal." Resting both bottles against her chest, she offered out a hand. He shook it, and then left it there, expecting her to offer out his bottle as she took one in each hand and stuffed a thumb into each of the necks to act as impromptu corks.

"_Someone_~ forgot to set the rules of _engagement_~!" She said in a sing-song tone, before toppling sideways off the branch. He lunged after her, one hand out and almost quick enough to grab her before she was kicking off of the branch and propelling herself along at an angle. She cackled and left him there to blink at her absence. A quiet '_Tisk!'_ escaped him before he shifted and slipped from the tree, drifting down and expecting to find the Warrior splattered across the ground.

But no, it couldn't have been that easy. She had twisted in mid-air, putting her feet under her as she landed on another branch and then lept down to the roots, knees bending so that she could slide down the length of it and hit the ground running. Coming up, he vanished and reappeared above her, reaching to idly collect one of the bottles and smirking as he came to a halt while she continued on. Lifting the bottle, he took a swig before pausing as he watched her burst through the ring of people around the fire, victoriously holding a bottle with a label on it over her head and waving to Y'shtola.

He didn't have to look at the one he held to know it was the wrong one, and thought back on the words she had said.

_"So I gotta drink my label-less bottle's contents..."_

He debated whether or not to simply keep her bottle hostage, but also knew that that was against the spirit of the game and while the _rules_ might be flexible in their interpretation, he would doubtless find her sitting in the room given to her, waiting for him.

"Well played, Hero. Well payed."

A smirk curled one corner of his mouth up as he vanished, form overtaken by a swirl of darkness.

* * *

She wasn't nearly as drunk as she had made herself seem to be. Sure, she used it as an excuse to say some of the carefully hoarded things she was saving to see what his reactions might be, and _sure_ the wine was potent, but she was nothing if not a _professional_ drunk. Which was why she was sitting on her bed, back against the headboard with her legs stretched out, contentedly munching on some of the jerky she never went anywhere without. It was part of the basic survival kit. Water, food, a compass and a few other odds and ends. A small grappling hook she could attach a makeshift rope to.

Twelve, but his expression had been _hilarious_ when she had jumped out of the tree. A brief moment of disbelief and denial as he reached out for her. He had probably expected her to need both hands for her climb after she had wobbled and acted overly careful for the climb down. A dual-sword style of fighting however had granted her plenty of practice with the acrobatics needed to scale trees without anything more than legs, elbows and the occasional chin. Relieved of one of the bottles as she was (she had switched which hand was holding what bottle as she twisted on the way down, thankfully) it had been remarkably easy to light the lantern and illuminate the room so that she could actually see when he showed up.

And he _would_ show up. Oh, he might make her _wait_ but he was an ancient immortal being that was utterly, terribly _bored_ with the day to day mundane. And this was a harmless game, one which had a harmless resolution regardless of the winner. He would doubtless consider giving up, consider what else he might do with his time and then, if he didn't have anything else to do, eventually show up. His appearance in the first place led her to think that he wasn't actively working on anything else, simply enjoying the spectacle of her trials and travels.

It was a bet she was willing to make and a risk she was willing to take, and one rewarded when a patch of darkness expanded in the middle of her room, contracting behind the Ascian as he stalked forward with her bottle in one hand and the other on his hip.

"Wow, you got here quick." The Warrior grinned at him, and wiggled her sock-clad toes as he huffed out an amused, chiding sound. "What. I expected you to keep me hanging for _hours_ in a fit of disgruntlement."

"I'd say you cheated, but you would just enjoy throwing the last conversation we had on that particular topic back in my face, wouldn't you."

"Naturally. C'mon, sit down." She nodded towards the chair a few feet away, the label-clad bottle tucked against her chest as she folded her arms. "I can't imagine standing around would be too comfy."

Eyeing the chair, Emet-Selch huffed once more and turned, parking squarely on the foot of the bed and scooting back so that he could lean against the wall as he held her label-less bottle every inch as captive as she held his. It was an invasion of privacy, and she answered it by shifting her feet and placing them squarely on his lap. He had thrown down a challenge, claiming personal space for himself, and she was damned if she was about to let him get away with it. The placement of her feet drew a quirked eyebrow and a glance that searched her face.

"You're not actually drunk, are you."

"I mean, I'm sorta drunk. Closer to that than buzzed. What gave it away?" She squinted, trying to think back on her actions.

"The remarkably straight line you made for the bonfire."

The Warrior winced and smiled sheepishly, holding out the bottle. "Oof. I should've thought to zig and zag a bit. Trade you?"

"Something tells me I'm about to be cheated of my amusement in the morning." Heaving a sigh, the Ascian made sure to have a grip on his bottle before relinquishing hers, though she made no move to steal it back once she had her own. No, the move she made was to tap the bottles together lightly and then lift her own in a silent salute, an action he mimicked.

"I dunno. Seeing me hung-over is pretty laughable. I'm not entirely heartless though, so I extend to you this offering of dried meats so that the body you inhavibit, uhh..." The Warrior blinked, before squinting. "... Pretty sure I fucked that one up. Anyways, want some jerky? You said the bodies you inhavibit-shit..."

"Inhabit?"

"Yeah, that, need to eat and do regular people things too, so I figure it probably soaks alcohol the same." She offered out the tin, gesturing to the strips of dried meat within, and he huffed out a laugh before digging for a piece and bringing it up to his nose to sniff it.

"Let's see then. Glazed in honey and smoked. Nothing _poisonous_, I would hope." Emet-Selch smirked as she rolled her eyes and stole the tin back.

"Look, poison in food's a big no-no. Growing up, we had enough to go around but not anything extra, so anyone that tampered with it was taught better, real quick." Waving one of the pieces of jerky at him, the Warrior pouted and then brought it back to take a bite, sipping from the label-less bottle of wine he had given back to her.

"Yes, yes. Of course." A playful smirk had crossed his features as he took a bite. It was smokey and sweet, and he found himself comparing it to her professed choice of alcohol. "You enjoy sweet things, it seems."

"With undertones of sour, sometimes spicy. Y'know, even if I did poison you, there's not much point. You'd just find someone else to possess and come back with less trust than I've worked to try and build." Leaning back against the headboard, the Warrior sighed and idly wiggled her toes, eyes partially lidding. "... Man, this is hard. I'm trying to think of topics that won't lead to sad rememberings. Oh! I know, what was it like to be an emperor?"

"Of all the things you ask, it's about my time as Solus? Well, if you must know it was dreadfully _boring_." Pursing his lips, Emet-Selch let his gaze drift across the room and settle against the far wall as he contemplated the answer. "Forging a nation, carving one out of a countryside, the so-called excitement of nigh-endless conflict is tempered by the dull workings of the logistics required to maintain it. Any fool can raise an army, but a true leader is the one that manages to feed it, after all."

"What?" She sounded almost indignant, and the snort that followed drew his eyes back to her so that he could quirk a brow. She continued after taking a healthy sip of wine, pointing towards him. "No no no, you've got to be kidding me. You didn't host any lavish parties? No wild, daring escapades to escape the rigmarole of duty? Not even a hint of after hours dancing?"

"For someone that worked so hard to avoid the ongoing party, you certainly seem intent on asking about ones past." The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as she grinned.

"'Course I am! I'm trying really hard to imagine you doing anything but a somber waltz and utterly failing, and for someone that hates boredom as much as you do that seems just... Wrong, somehow." Her bottle of wine was pointed towards him once more, shifting to indicate all of him. "Besides, someone that dresses like that? It's layered. It probably swirls out when you spin fast enough. Nobody has a coat like that if they don't like to play in it."

Emet-Selch took a moment to look down at himself, slowly nodding. She did have a point, after all. "Oh very well. There were lavish parties, with music and low lighting. There were women, and men, and pleasant distractions. Good drink, and good food and dancing-"

"Show me." She held up the bottle at the exasperated look he shot her, lips pursing at the interruption. "I swear on my da's grave that I'll chug half of this right here, right now if you get up and show me some dancing. I don't believe it, because I've seen Garlean homes and people. Too much war, too much black and smoke for there to be the low light of dimmed candles."

"I am _not_ here for your personal amusement, _Hero_. You would do well to remember that." Folding his arms, the Ascian lifted his chin until she sighed and held up a hand, looking apologetic.

"Too far, then. Sorry." Lowering the bottle and her hand, she settled both on her lap and contemplated the vague line that was visible through the glass, measuring how much was left. Two thirds full. The Warrior's mouth worked slightly, shifting from side to side. "... I dunno. I just thought you understood, yeah? I guess I'm working off assumptions and really shouldn't. Just make an ass out've you and me."

"What, you _assumed_ I was here for your amusement?"

"Eh? No! I thought-... Nah, never mind." Wriggling her nose, she took a longer swig from the bottle, sighing slightly as she lowered it and blinking as he leaned to make sure he was in her direct line of sight. She met his eye and then looked away, drawing a tisk from him. "Oh alright. I thought you were here because you were having fun, because it was a mutual fun drinking thing, and that you understood."

"Understood _what_. Spit it out." The Warrior sighed and finally met his gaze properly, waving a hand vaguely.

"What else could it be? I like to watch." She almost regretted the words the moment she said them, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as she continued to wave vaguely. "Listening, hearing about things, about places, watching parties from afar. I get it, y'know? Holy and Flare, you're _millenia_ old. You were around when the source and shards were sundered apart. If anything, you probably think _I'__m_ here for your amusement and entertainment. You'd be more right than me, for thinking it, though that's not a nice way to think of people. And you're _trying_. You're really _trying_ to offer out the olive branch, and doing far better than I could have. If our positions were back to front-"

The Warrior sighed, raking a hand back through her hair before resting her head back against the wall. "... If things were the other way around, I'd be all but useless to you. I can't teleport. I can't pluck people from the lifestream. I can't even use _magic_. All I've got is two short, curved swords, more throwing knives than I care to count and a history of alcoholism. The only reasons I've ever been able to beat Primals is lots of planning and the constant support of my friends."

"All I can think of is 'how do I get rid of tempering?', or 'maybe I can convince him that we don't -need- to fight, even if we can't find common ground'." He blinked at that, pale gold eyes briefly shuttering as she kept going. "But I got _nothing_, so until I do all I've got for a plan is to try and keep you amused enough that you stick around until I can find a way. And yes, I damn well _do_ ramble when I'm drunk."

Her huff was met with the lifting of one eyebrow, and he seemed to contemplate her words for a long moment before sighing. He pointed at the bottle in her lap, and she glanced down at it as her brows furrowed.

"Drink."

She lifted the bottle, scowling, and took a swig.

"You _do_ realize that less than half of what you said had any real bearing on the situation, yes?" His words were met with a huff as she looked away. "The way all these words keep pouring out of you, it's almost as if you've saved them up. I wonder what else is it that you've squirreled away and left unsaid."

"Nothing helpful."

"Oh, but I disagree. In your own way, you _are_ trying. You invite me to play, you speak cordially, you apologize when you realize you have done wrong. A far cry more than what I would get from Thancred. Unless there is some layer to his personality that I'm somehow missing." His lips curled upwards slightly at the amused snort that rose from the Warrior, and she covered her mouth with a hand.

"I mean, he's got a good reason to hate Ascians. One possessed him, and made him hurt his friends. It's not like it's unwarranted."

"As one of those friends that was undoubtedly hurt, the most harmful thing you've wished of me to my face is that I _dance_ for you. What an odd thing, from one who should be my enemy." He raised a hand as her expression soured, waving it gently to make sure she was still looking at him instead of glancing away. "... I never was any good at it. I practiced the menacing walk far more, after all."

"So it's not that you _won't_ it's that you _can't_." Her lips quirked at the corners as he threw his hands in the air and leaned back against the wall.

"Zodiark's Mercy, you are _impossible_."

"No shame in saying you can't do something. I'm terrible at dancing anything but my Spin-dance, after all." She raised her bottle, taking a swig as he let his head loll to the side and survey her, quirking a brow.

"Spin-dance?"

"Ohh no you don't. There's no room for it here anyways." She grinned crookedly, though it faltered as he pointed at the bottle.

"I will drink half of yours, and then half of mine, if you do it." His words were a solemn intonation, and she snorted as she gestured to the space.

"Too little room! 'Sides, if I get off the bed now, you'll be closer to winning-" He snapped his fingers, and the room disappeared into darkness that, after it passed a moment later, left them both sitting on her bed in the Crystarium the same way she had been in Slitherbough. Another snap lit the lanterns and candles in the room. "-youuuu fucker."

"Plenty of room now. You already fulfilled the portion that required you to return to your rooms, and as these are _still_ your rooms, technically they still count." He smirked smugly at her as she glared sourly at him and then contemplated if it was worth it or not.

"... Drink half of mine, then half of yours, -and- you have to get me back there before my friends leave regardless of if I win or lose our bet." She offered out the bottle, and he solemnly took it from her and raised it in a toast.

"Deal. You had best take a few seconds to get ready. This will take a moment."

"Yeah, yeah..." Shifting her feet from his lap, the Warrior slid over to the side of the bed and peeled her socks off. Putting her bare feet under her, she wiggled her toes for a moment and pushed herself up. "I'm going to end up puking, I know it."

A conversational hum answered her, and she glanced back to see the Ascian was leaned slightly to the side so that he could quickly drink the wine. Lowering the bottle and letting out a partial sigh, he licked his lips and made a face, blinking rapidly. "Well _don't_ look at me to go cleaning it up for you."

"Can't you just-" She snapped her fingers, quirking a brow at how he rolled his eyes.

"Of course I could. But, Dear Hero, you have yet to answer the most important question. That being _why__ should __I_?"

"Fair point." She nodded and wobbled her way out towards the empty space in the room, drawing both of the short, curved khanjars she carried. Another few paces and she had found her balance again while rifling through her pockets for a handful of spare gil. Emet-Selch leaned slightly further so that he could set her bottle near the headboard and then pick up his own to critically note the level of the liquid within it through partially lidded eyes. "Go on. Drink."

"If this vessel dies of alcohol poisoning, it's _your_ fault, you know."

She snickered and made two stacks of three gil on the flat of one blade before she reversed her grip on the other and slid one of the stacks onto it. "-You- offered to drink that much. I trust you know your own body's limits. So. Goal isn't to not drop them, it's to not drop _all_ of them at the same time. Gotta make two stacks or, as is easier piles like what I've got on my blades on the ground in front of where my feet start. I used to do this to entertain, busking for some extra coin."

Another conversational hum answered her, and she slowly, ever so carefully turned to watch him with both blades curving around her sides. He had shifted onto his side, stretched out and head supported by one hand as the other held the bottle. She gave him a moment to finish, and when he finally did he sighed tucked the bottle against his stomach so that he could loop an arm around it, waggling his eyebrows. His cheeks were slightly red, and he blinked rapidly as she shifted a fulm to the side.

Taking a slow breath, she lowered her center of gravity, slinking down before popping up and going into a spin and dropping down once more. Gil jingled as the stacks spread and then were caught by the flats of the blades, and she repeated the motion to do it again, this time spinning the opposite direction. The third time, she spun and angled one blade, scooping all six coins onto its flat side, and the reversal had them all sliding to a halt in two neat stacks of three gil along her offhand blade.

_Schink, schink, slide, slide._

The Warrior wobbled, grimacing and concentrating as she rocked the blades back and forth, spreading the stacks out and deftly using the tip of one blade to pat one of the now airborne coins down onto the ground at her feet where it bounced on its face and then rolled to a stop. Resetting her stance, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then began again, this time faster.

_Schink-schink-slide-slide-ting!_

Two gil rested at her feet now, and two stacks of four were balanced unevenly along the blade. Swallowing, the Warrior looked a little green as she slowly lowered the blades. "I'm sure you get the idea."

"I drank the equivalent to a bottle of an ancient red wine the likes of which Eorzea has not seen in an age, and _that__'s it_?" Emet-Selch scoffed, and pursed his lips as she rolled her eyes. "Come now, surely you can do better than that."

"Ass. I'm _aiming_ for you if I hurl." Grumbling as he stuck his tongue out at her, the Warrior slunk down and narrowed her eyes, only to pop up and resume the same pattern she had before.

_Schinkschinkslideslide-_

This time, instead of batting one of the coins down she crossed both blades and popped each of the four gil up at different angles. Breaking out into a rapid spin and paping three of them up into the air again, she effectively juggled them as she twisted and turned. One of the gil clattered to the ground near the first pile, leaving her bouncing and rattling three gil off of one another and her blades. She ignored the low whistle when she scooped all three coins with the one blade, arced them overhead and immediately reversed the momentum of that blade to leave all three gil in a free fall only to be scooped up by the flat of the off hand as she kicked off from the ground. Twisting in mid-air, rotating and getting her feet under her with a stumble, the Warrior course-corrected and juggled all three coins back with her to her original spot. A fourth gil clattered against the ground, making for two neat piles of two gil each.

Her world was spinning unhealthily at that point, so she grit her teeth and slapped the blades together, catching both gil between the flats so that she could go very still, twinned swords pointing towards the Ascian on the bed. Bringing both blades up, she released the pressure on them so that the coins were tossed upwards, almost hitting the ceiling as she twirled both blades and let go of them, letting them follow the coins. His eyes glanced up only briefly, to keep track of all four airborne pieces of metal and then track back down to where she had scooped up the four gil on the floor and flicked them up, two apiece. Deflecting the falling gil, and giving her time, she caught both blades and went into a spin. Each blade flicked out, catching gil and dropping to stabilize each landing even as she wove and spun to-

Her knee caught the leg of the table, and she hissed as she dropped both blades, hopping in place as pieces of metal rained down around her. Easy laughter met her efforts, and she glared back at the bed even as she scrounged for a piece of fruit from the basket and lobbed it towards the Ascian. It met the red and violet swirls of a barrier of some kind and bounced away, even as Emet-Selch continued to laugh.

"Asshat." The chiding tone lacked true venom, and she collected both of her short, curved swords so that she could sheath them and hobble back towards the bed. Sitting up, the Ascian grinned and held up both hands as if to imply that he was innocent even as the barrier flickered and vanished. "I don't suppose you can snap your fingers and conjure up a sandwich, can you? I think both've us really should eat something. You maybe more than me, Ser Chugs-a-lot."

"A gross misuse of my powers." Dramatically, he lifted a hand and waved idly, only to pause as she squinted at him. "What."

"You always do that. When you wave, two turns and then a final flick." Sitting down on the bed, she inspected her knee and grumbled to herself as she rubbed at the sore joint. "What if I ask -really- nicely?"

"For what?" Emet-Selch inspected his gloved hand for a moment, before glancing at her and trying to peer around the narrow expanse of her back.

"A sandwich. Something to settle my stomach." Stretching and then flopping back, the Warrior glanced over and blinked at his nearness. Taking advantage of the slightly thoughtful look to him, she clasped her hands together and let her lower lip quiver, widening her eyes ever so slightly. "Please? Please, Grand Architect of Ages Past, will you please craft me a sandwich? I would be forever grateful-"

"_Please_ never do that again." Huffing and snapping his fingers, the Ascian rolled his eyes and held the sandwich laden plate out to her. She accepted it and propped herself up using an elbow, before carefully tearing it in half and offering one of them out to him. "There was perfectly good fruit over there, you know."

"True, but that meant asking you to get it, and you looked singularly uninclined to move." She blinked at the sandwich, and frowned. "Is that even a word? Uninclined?"

"The most interesting observation I have to make about language, is that over the ages it _morphs_." Accepting half of the sandwich, he took a bite and then almost choked as she pushed herself back and settled in next to him, leaning against his side. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I'ma fall over if I don't lean back and to the side. You were closer." She grinned as he huffed, reaching and snagging her bottle of wine to inspect it. "Think you can manage to get us back now?"

"Architect, make me a sandwich, Architect, teleport me to my destination. Architect-" His voice had taken on a mocking tone, and she tucked the bottle of wine onto her lap so that she could reach over and clap a hand over his mouth.

"You promised!" Her answer was a dramatic roll of pale gold eyes, and she snorted as she dropped her hand and leaned more heavily against his side. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a sassy drunk?"

"Once or twice." He sounded almost smug at that, and balanced the partial sandwich on his knee so that he could free up a hand and snap his fingers. The candles went out, snuffed immediately and leaving the room dark before he snapped his fingers again. The darkness spread, coiling about the drunk pair before receding and leaving them in her room in Slitherbough. It was dark, and so he snapped his fingers a third time to light the lantern that hung from the ceiling.

"You got a certain amount of times you can do that a day? Or's it just based on how much energy you've got at the time." He glanced down at her at her question, and she shrugged slightly. "I can't do magic. Any time anything magical has come from me, it was from an item or Hydaelyn working through me."

"Hmm. To avoid going into detail - and thus avoid giving you a potential advantage - it is based on my personal strength and reserve of aether. Of _course_ I can't do it as often if I've exhausted myself. Most magic is like that, though." The Ascian stretched out his legs, before blinking as she grunted and shifted forward enough that she could heft her bottle and drain the rest of the wine from it. Swallowing quickly and quietly, it didn't take long until it was empty and she was tucking back against his side once more. 

"Finished b'fore you did."

Emet-Selch eyed his bottle of wine and huffed.

"So you did."


	2. You get the feelin' comin' after the glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Things get a little dark in this one. Not a lot. Just a little.  
Edit: fixed the way the rest of the chapter didn't post.

She had expected him to be gone when she woke up. She _hadn't_ expected the coat to still be there, though. It was draped over her, and she seemed to have curled on her side to disappear under it sometime during her sleep. It smelled faintly of petrichor, that almost earthy wet-dust smell that came after rain. She would probably have thought more about it if her head hadn't felt fit to explode with every beat of her heart as it pulsed blood through her body, and ever so quietly she groaned and curled back up in the shadow of the fur, leather and cloth garment that was hers by rights for a day. Why had she even woken up in the first place...?

A knock sounded at her door, and her headache surged anew. 

Oh. That's why. 

An inarticulate partial whine, partial grumble answered the pounding, and Minfillia's voice sounded from outside. 

"We're all up and... And ready to go. We're just waiting on you, is... Are you alright?"

Grumbling, wincing as the sound reverberated through her skull and dragging her prize with her, the rogue teetered to the door and unlocked it so that she could crack it open and peer blearily out at the young blue-eyed girl.

"Are- Oh. You... Look horrible." Minfillia stepped back, lifting both hands to her mouth before wrinking her nose. 

"Tell the others-" By the Twelve, was that ungodly croak her voice? "-I'ma be ten minutes. And then we go."

"Should I get a healer?"

"'M wounded in dignity only." The girl nodded and turned to head down the hall, and the Warrior carefully closed the door behind her, turning and wheezing even as she stumbled back against the wood as she was startled by the abrupt appearance of the Ascian. "Ho-fu-!"

"Good morning~!" He sounded damnably chipper, and reached out to adjust his coat across her shoulders. Without it, he was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt with the cuffs buttoned and a red and white toga, underneath which boots and presumably pants lingered, and she tucked one hand to her heart and the other to her head as if that might help with the hang-over that threatened to topple her. "My, _someone_ looks to be in sorry shape this morning. I wonder, whatever will the others think if you go out like this, wearing my coat over yesterday's clothes and utterly reeking of a foreign vintage..."

"My coat now. Is... Izzit an ascian thing, not bein' hung over?" Blinking, the Warrior stood there and tried to focus on staying standing, leaning back against the door for extra support even as the Ascian tisked and waggled a gloved finger at her. 

"The wrong question, and so early in the day!" He turned away from her, sweeping about the room to collect the few trinkets she had left out. A stick of charcoal and scrap of paper. Her spare flask. A small cloth with some dried fruit in it. Each item he carried back was tucked away into a pocket somewhere. "Now then, you have quitethe distance to go today."

"Loud... You're more worried 'bout the coat than me, face it." She grimaced, fumbling for the flash he had just stuffed into one of her pants pockets (blessed had been the one that had decided to put pockets on the -sides- of the legs too) so that she could crack it open and take a sip. Water. It would have to do.

"Naturally, this coat is one of a kind. I would hate for it to be damaged due to your carelessness." Huffing, he stepped back to survey his work, smirking at how the too-long garment dragged slightly on the floor. "You'll have to return it to me cleaned, of course."

"Mmh." 

"Oh this -does- promise to be an amusing start to the day. Run along."

"M'kay. Your gloves're next."

He blinked as she pushed open the door and stepped into the hall, idly ambling away.

* * *

"So. Now you know."

The Warrior had survived the trip back to the Crystarium, and it had largely been one made in silence, and only partially at that out of kindness and concern for the hang over she was nursing. The conversation she had (barely) followed in Y'shtola's chambers before they had set out hadn't quite made her miserable, but it had been a close thing. She blamed any side-eyeing her companions did along the way on the way she teetered periodically. The fresh air, time and plenty of water had cleared up the worst of it, though she did periodically get twinges of pain through her head if she turned too quickly and couldn't stand bright lights at that exact moment.

"What that I'm dying? I knew that already." She didn't bother to glance over at the source of the voice, currently using it's owner's coat as a blanket as she lay stretched out on her bed with one of the sleeves folded and flopped over her eyes. "I've known I was dying for almost as long as I've been alive. If it's not old age that gets me, it's fighting."

"Oh, but if you succumb to this..." The voice was closer now, and a slight weight on the bed announced the arrival of the Ascian in close proximity. "... Hero, you won't simply _die_. Oh no, you will turn into a sin eater with the strength of all those you have slain. You will turn on your friends and hunt them down, one by one, and make them disappear into the brightly lit sky. The strength of your will -is- comparable to that of Titania, after all."

"Yeah, I got that memo."

"Doesn't that frighten you?" The folded sleeve was lifted from her face, and she squinted at the low light provided by the single candle that the Ascian had lit. 

"Of course it does. But worrying about it only makes me suffer twice. Best to look into if there's anything I can do to avoid it, and if I don't find a solution rely on those that are loads better at finding ones for this sort of thing than me." She snagged the coat with both hands, narrowing her eyes at the silhouette as he huffed out a sound of amusement. "I got a good hour left before you get this back, you know. I'm comfy."

Emet-Selch raised his hands in a show of surrender, before folding them and shifting to the side so that he was no longer blocking the light of the candle. She scrunched up her face and muttered something particularly unpleasant, drawing another amused huff from her conversation companion. "Now -that- wasn't very nice."

"Look, if you want your coat back that bad, you gotta ask me to share it. Because I earned the damn thing fair and square, and one of the few upsides to today was watching Thancred struggle not to ask." 

The Ascian laughed softly at that, and she didn't have to see his face to know he was smirking. "That _was_ a delight, now wasn't it. Very well. I shall take pity on your current condition just this once. Will you share my coat with me?"

The Warrior hummed, as if thinking about it before shifting and wiggling to the side, making room for him on the bed and partially poking out from under the side of the coat. When he remained still, she patted the bed beside her, drawing a tisk from the Ascian. 

"You can _not_ be serious."

"Couldn't be more serious if I tried. Share is as share does. You're not the only one that likes watching people struggle." When he remained unmoving, she rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm well aware you could just take the damn thing, and I'd bet gil you just thought about it too. But, have you considered this?"

The Ascian canted his head to the side, and she rolled over onto her side, putting her back to him and yawning widely as she settled down to sleep. She had almost drifted off by the time he tisked audibly and snapped his fingers, the coat vanishing from her grip.

* * *

She felt remarkably better by the second day. Of course, that was only until she learned of the mass of sin eaters that was closing in on the Crystarium, at which point she shed anything that she didn't consider emergency supplies or immediately essential to combat and hustled out. She was fleet of foot, and by the time she had activated the anchors required for the shield Alphinaud had found his sister and was well on his way towards the gate. It would have taken too long to run around and take the stairs down, so the Warrior simply went over the side and rolled when she hit the ground. 

They headed out into the fray as it began to rain. She was okay with that. It made the dark greys fade into the background just like everything else, even if it -did- make footing slippery at times. Rain was one of the favoured terrains for those who went bump in the night, and she was nothing if not a rogue. 

It didn't take long for her to have worked her way relentlessly through the Forest of the Lost Shepherd and then back again. She fought on even after most of the forces that had straggled or gotten separated from other squadrons had been gathered and escorted back, sweeping every ilm of the woods and only stopping when the rain eased up and she hadn't found one for an hour. He found her, of course. 

It was becoming something of a habit of his.

She was seated on a rock, methodically cleaning the blood from one of those wide, curved blades she carried, and didn't look up as he approached. The way the cloth paused and she actively _listened_ with every fiber of her being was reminiscent of how some people could sense the aether of others, and he tilted his head to the side even as she resumed her work. 

"All in a night's work, hmm?"

"I don't know if this is a good time." She didn't look up, instead paying particular detail to a stubborn corner where blood refused to let itself be cleaned off. "I'm very angry right now."

"You don't seem it." Leaning to the side to peer at her face, he sucked in a breath and let his eyes widen appreciatively. Almost out of morbid curiosity, he opened his senses to the aetheric and straightened as he surveyed the maelstrom before him. 

"I like to think that sometimes I can hide these things. I don't think I'm doing very well right now. I'd sort of hoped there would be more sin eaters that I could wear myself out against."

"Such an urge to kill..." Pale gold eyes partially closed as he hummed thoughtfully. 

"It happens some times. I'd ask that you leave me alone, but I don't know if that's wise. I shouldn't be alone, but I also shouldn't be with people. I'm very... Violent, right now."

"Hoping to scare the immortal?" His words brought a snerk from the Warrior, and she finally looked up from the blade. There was a fierceness to her expression, a curl to her lips that didn't quite speak of a sneer of disdain but was definitely matched by the intensity of her eyes. 

"Not hardly. I'd just hate to do or say something that might crack the fragile trust we've got going. The last thing I need, is for you to disappear off to wherever it is that you go that I can't follow. I need you within easy reach in case I find a way to counter your Tempering." She gestured to him, and then looked back to the blade on her lap, turning it over and scrubbing at the drying blood she found there. "It's not like I can just whistle and you'll come running here from the Source, abandoning any plans or projects therein."

"Truly, you think my ego so fragile that a few harsh words might bruise it? How little you must think of me-"

"Emet-Selch, I am an ilm away from telling you to find a better use for your mouth than sassing me." The Warrior held up the hand with the cloth, folding it around two fingers to indicate just how far that was before resuming her work. "I'm _violent_ right now. I want to _hit_ things. And while you're immortal, you're also not someone I'd just haul off and lay into without a _really_ good reason. If you run your mouth I really don't think I could take it."

"Then don't."

She sucked in a breath, partially surprised, partially irritated as she lifted her gaze and stared at him, into him and through him all at once. He was smiling, and slightly slouched even as he let his arms dangle limply. She took him in, took in the mud on his boots and the way he was tilting his head to the side, looking at her as if he saw something small and adorable like a puppy trying to be fierce. 

"You think yourself a monster for this tendency within you? -Please-, Hero, you have fought monsters. You have seen them. Being possessed of the urge to _kill_ certainly isn't going to lump you into the same category as those that murder children. You _barely_ count, and only then because of the roiling light that fights for freedom within you." Spreading his arms, he gestured to the purple foliage and let his smile grow. "No, you are _hardly_ a danger, let alone a passing threa-"

She was _fast_ when she had a mind to move. What she lacked in magic she had received in blessings of speed, stamina and strength after all. She was on him in the time it took him to lower his hands, but all that accomplished was an abrupt meeting with the swirling purple and grey shield that manifested between them. She paced there, back and forth as she idly twirled the blade she had been cleaning, her grin more a baring of teeth than anything else as she tittered.

"For all that I'm not a threat to you, you certainly were quick to pull up a barrier. We're a bad match for each other in a combat. You have spellery, and I have none."

"You don't _want_ me to fight you seriously, Little Hero." The Ascian's expression settled into an almost sullen one as he shook his head and folded his arms. "You're not ready for that monster yet." 

"All bark, and no bite. I didn't expect this." Turning away, the Warrior sat back down on her rock and let out a slow breath. She idly gestured with the curved blade she held, as if to encompass all of the forest. "I don't suppose you could take me to some sin eaters, could you?"

"You're high on adrenaline, on the thrill of the hunt and the kill. Small wonder my grandson took a liking to you." Huffing, the Ascian leaned forward and waved the barrier away. "But I'm curio-"

The Warrior was faster this time, bolting forward and slamming the blade against the barrier, only to spin around and drop low, drawing the paired blade and bringing it up on a diagonal slice that was aimed to tear through his side. It almost would have, if not for how it instead drew sparks across the newly oriented barrier. He took a step back, throwing his arms wide in invitation as she let out a slow, controlled breath and stalked forward. Periodically she tested the barrier, darting one way or another as she rattled off strikes against the swirls of red and violet, shifting from side to side as he continued to back away through the woods. 

"Oh come now, I thought you greater than this. Is this truly all that the mighty Ascian-Slayer has to her? _Please_, you're starting to _bore_ me." As if to emphasize his point, Emet-Selch idly stretched and yawned widely, pale gold eyes partially closing before he jerked and stepped quickly aside when one of the black blades tore through the barrier as if it was no more than paper. 

"I'd ask if you were afraid, but that's a moot question at this point. Even if I end that vessel, you'll just get a new one. Last chance. Play with me, or leave me alone."

The Ascian considered her words for a moment before throwing his hands out to either side. A shield and sword manifested and were adjusted accordingly as he shifted into a stance that even a mortal's lifetime hadn't let him forget. The shield was brought to bear, the sword leveled so that it poked out past as his clothes shimmered and were replaced with a rough semblance of Garlean armor. The only thing that was missing was the helm, which he had decided against as he watched her rasp one sword along the edge of the other. 

They were horrible wide things, now that he had a better look at them. An ilm thick along the back edge, three ilm wide and a little longer than her forearm, they were utterly matte black and decorated only sparsely with a bit of gold inlay along the widest part of the blade. Her hands fit the handles as if they were made for her, which really he supposed they likely had been. 

So settled, he patiently waited, and was promptly rewarded. 

The Warrior bolted towards him, faster again than she had been before and the scrape of one sword across his shield told him he had predicted her attack correctly, angling the kite-shaped piece of reinforced metal as the second blade slipped around it. Stepping and turning to keep both of her blades engaged, he swept across with the sword and caught only air as she spun with him, leading sword slipping back so that she could break into a reversed spin and come across to rattle first one, than the other blade across his own. 

He had seen her drunken spin-dance. He could see it's influence in the way she kept beating against the shield and sword he offered, patiently dipping and weaving and picking off strikes even as he took the opportunities given to him. A jab here tore through one of her sleeves. A low slice there was hopped over, but put her in position for the Ascian to surge forward and slam the shield against her, sending her staggering back before she recovered and stepped right back in. 

The spinning, he found, was distracting. She was incredibly good at reversing her momentum at a moment's notice, and he could tell the exact moment that she went from venting frustrations against the shield to honestly and seriously fighting him. Her stance went from furious to fluid, and she spent more time shifting out of the way of his counters and retaliations than she did beating both blades against his own armaments. It wasn't long at all before they had settled into the smooth steps of what could almost have been a dance. 

There was a measure of give and take as they stepped in tandem. One would step forward, claiming ground even as the other sidled aside and spun around a tree, using momentum as added force to bat aside an incoming weapon and score a thin line across the clothing or armor of the other. She would press forward, leaping and kicking off of a rock to get the advantage of height only to crash down onto his shield and get thrown right back. Rebounding off the rock once more, she dove low, sliding between his legs and rolling to her feet and bringing a curved blade down against the straight sword that came back and across, shifting it aside. 

Still, once her bloodlust had faded there was an almost peaceful feeling to it. Cathartic exercise, that eventually came to an end as she disengaged and moved to lean against a tree, sweating and grinning tiredly. 

"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Working his hand free of the straps, the Ascian grounded the point of the shield and tugged at the edge of his collar, puffing out his cheeks. "Blessed Zodiark, I had forgotten how little this armor breaths..."

"There's a hotspring to the north, maybe an hour's walk." Yawning, the Warrior sheathed both blades and slowly stretched, rolling one shoulder as if it bothered her.

"We've been at this for, what, three hours? Hero, if I have to walk another hour this vessel may very well die of it's own accord. Come here." Reaching for the shield, he slid his arm through the straps and offered his hand out to her, tucking the sword under his arm to free up the fingers of the other. She ambled over, reaching out to clasp his forearm even as he snapped and bid darkness to swallow them both. When it receded, they were at the edge of the hot springs and drawing startled gasps from the few soldiers recovering within. 

"It's the-!"

Another snap, and they were gone, reappearing in her rooms where a disgruntled Emet-Selch was huffing and shaking his head. 

"I do not care to be gawked at by the locals."

"That's alright. The Exarch saw fit to give these rooms a hell of a nice bath tub. I'll even be nice and give you a head start." She cheekily grinned at him, and the Ascian huffed once more. 


	3. I said the joker is a wanted man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skip a few points here. Anyone familiar with Emet-Selch will undoubtedly have either seen the cutscenes or played the game and thus know more or less what happens. No point in padding the story with that. But the major bits that go a little differently, those I intend to jot down.

She didn't care, really. They had both stripped down to their undergarments and slipped into either side of the ridiculously large pool of a bath tub that could have just as easily fit five people as it did two. The water was pleasantly hot, and they had each taken a quick shower to scrub off dirt and, in the Warrior's case, dried blood before easing into the water with a pleased sigh apiece. 

People wore less than she was when they went swimming. Hell, the wore less at the hot springs they had fled from. There was nothing indecent about it. She was tired, with sore muscles that gently protested the hours she had spent fighting sin eaters and then the time spent working through the rest of her rage at Vauthry and her inability to save the people that had been counting on her. 

Cracking open her eyes, she glanced over to where the Ascian was sprawled bonelessly in the water across the tub, legs stretched out and sumberged up to his chin with his eyes closed and a blissful expression stamped across his face. He looked peaceful.

"You know, for an old guy you're pretty _spry_." 

One of his eyebrows quirked upwards. So he _was_ still awake. 

"A certain perk of being able to mold a vessel into whatever I need it to be is that I can also make it as young as I need." He was almost purring his words out, utterly still save for the necessity of moving his jaw to speak, and she grinned slightly before she continued.

"What was that one's name, by the way? What happens when you leave him, is he stuck looking like you until he dies?" 

"If I -might- make a recommendation?" A pale gold eye cracked open, surveying her from across the tub. "Don't ask questions you don't _really_ want the answers to."

"I already know it's some random schmuck that you happened across." She stretched idly in the water, swishing her hands back and forth and watching the ripples as the Ascian let out a long sigh. Pushing himself up so that he was seated more securely on the submerged ledge, he reached up and scrubbed both hands across his face. "What am I going to do, -judge- you? Actually, you know, I might. But only if his name was Irwin."

"I don't know what his name was. It's not as if I _asked_ him... When I leave this body, 'tis just that. An empty shell, breathing and comatose until I return my consciousness and focus to it." Blinking over at her as he tilted his head to the side, Emet-Selch quirked a brow once more and rested his arms along the edge of the tub. "I've indulged your curiosity, in the interest of fairness indulge mine. Does it bother you that I snuffed the soul within to make it a habitable and hassle-free vessel?"

"That's a moral conundrum, that. On one hand, if you hadn't then you wouldn't have been able to help Y'shtola. On the other, that's some random Jack's body, who might have had friends or family. So... Yes, but also no. For the life we've got right now, things... Sorta gotta die. It's the unnecessary deaths that get to be where it's a bit more finicky." She looked down at her hands, bringing them up so that they lingered just under the surface of the water and slowly curled her fingers. "Was the death of his soul necessary? For you to be here, yes. It served a purpose. So it doesn't bother me as much as it could, I suppose is what I'm trying to say."

"It isn't, though." It was the Warrior's turn to quirk a brow as she glanced across the tub to where the Ascian was now leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he wove his fingers together. "Once all ten and three Shards are returned to the Source, and He-"

"At-atata." Raising a hand, she shook her head. "I'm having a nice, relaxing bath after a shit day that's ended on a _slightly_ okay note. There's loads of other topics I'd rather talk about right now than the may-or-may-not-be primals gods."

"'Tis no matter of may or may not be. Primals are what they are." Rolling his eyes, Emet-Selch huffed out a sigh and tossed his head slightly to get the white forelock out of his face. "I _am_ serious though. Death is an unnecessary thing."

"Oh yeah? Then never ever try and kill my friends." 

"They're not actually alive, you know. Pale reflections, shades and fragments of-" He sputtered as she surged forward with her hands cupped, lips pressed into a thin line as she splashed him with hot water from the tub. Blinking and wiping his face, he frowned at her as the Warrior stood up in the middle of the tub and settled her hands on her waist. 

"So many things I'd like to say right now, but none of them have the weight they should with you. You're _T__empered_, which means that nothing that runs even remotely counter to Zodiark is going to really get through with the impact that they should. I'll have a pretty long list to go over with you when we finally get that snag figured out."

"Whatever makes you think I'd _let_ you take that from me? I'm perfectly content-"

"That's exactly the problem! It's a logic trap. You love him, ergo you don't want to stop being devoted to him." The Warrior raised a hand, exasperated and shaking her head. "Look, I -want- to talk to you about this, but not right now. I want to learn more, alright? I want to know more about the past, and what it means for the present and also the future, but right now I'm still trying to deal with the fact that I'm in my swim wear in a very large bath tub with an _Ascian. _I never claimed I was smart, so one thing at a time, yeah?"

Pale gold eyes partially closed as Emet-Selch mulled over her words and went from sullen to smirking. "My, that _is_ a good point. Uncomfortable, are we?"

"Well, yes, but actually no." Wading back to her spot, the warrior sat back down and stretched her legs out, sighing contently as the hot water soothed the lingering soreness in her torso and arms. "It's a damn fine bath, you're excellent conversational company - believe you me, shutting you up is a task in and of itself- but you're also the first of your faction... That... What are you doing?"

The Ascian had huffed at the mention of shutting him up and started to slink along the perimeter of the tub, sidling up next to her and draping his arm across the ledge behind her even as he leaned in. The smirk had grown to overtake both sides of his mouth, and he tilted his head as he made sure to invade her personal space, legs stretching out so that they could hem hers in. Eyes narrowing playfully, he practically purred at her as he spoke. 

"Are you uncomfortable now, Dear Hero~? Do I make your skin cra-"

The Warrior partially turned, leaning into him and cupping the side of his face and brushing his thumb across his cheek. There was a grin there as he blinked, and she reached to cup the other side of his face even as she very nearly brushed his nose with her own.

"You're _bluffing_, Ascian." Pinching both of his cheeks and laughing as she dropped her hands to shove herself into the deeper portion of the tub, she settled into a dead float and stared at the ceiling with a smile. "Fishing for reactions. I'll have you know I'm a professional at that, and the only way to prove it is to call your bluff until you back down. You're _playing_."

"Naturally." Huffing, he pushed himself to his feet and rubbed his cheeks, ambling over to peer down at her curiously as her eyes flit over to register the motion and then go back to studying the ceiling. "... You're sad now. I don't have to survey your soul to know that. I have -seen- that smile before."

"Yeah, in a mirror I'd bet. We're two people that think we're monsters masquerading as people. And it doesn't matter how much of a monster or how little, it still means we both wear masks of our own making." Scrubbing at her face, she shifted in the water to put her feet under her and cracked her neck to the side, sighing. "I've been in the water for too long I think. I'm waxing melodramatic. It doesn't matter anyways, even if-"

He was taller than her. Taller, and settling hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him even as one shifted to tuck under her chin and tilt her face up, thumb pressing over her lips to still them. She blinked at him as he bent just enough to tuck his forehead against hers, gold eyes closed and a look of sadness pulling the corners of his lips down. 

"I will only say this once, so you had best listen up, Warrior."

The hand that had remained on her shoulder drifted down to her hip, and the Ascian sighed as he shifted his head slightly from side to side, nuzzling the high part of his forehead just above the Garlean third eye against her brow as he hunched further. There was a weight to his words, as if they came from somewhere that had settled deep inside his chest and were reluctant to leave him. 

"You are not a monster. _Never_, a monster. You are good, and flawed, and cracked, and struggling against the unbending forces of inevitability. You are as you ever have been." His eyes slowly opened, remaining half-lidded as he sighed and traced his thumb along her jaw even as his gaze searched her face. "As you have _always_ sought to be. Not pure, never pure, but possessed of a strong heart and moral compass that has ever guided you..."

Trailing off, Emet-Selch opened his mouth as if to continue but instead sighed and stepped away, turning so that he could lift a hand and wave that peculiar little three-step wave even as a mote of darkness expanded in the tub. She reached for him, stepping after him with a look of baffled confusion across her face.

"Hey, wait-"

But she wasn't fast enough, and as she stared at the spot he had been, she tried to make sense of the Ascian.

* * *

She looked for him. She knew he was watching, or at least she hoped that he was, but didn't have the faintest idea on how to make sure of it. It wasn't as if she could ask Y'shtola or Urianger to open their senses to the aetheric paths around them and check for a potentially invisible person or scrying spell similar to what the Crystal Exarch might have used. He didn't even reappear after she had fought her frenzied way through Eulmore.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

It wasn't particularly difficult to sneak out in all the commotion. No, the difficult part was finding a patch of shade to get out form under the weaving strands of light that wasn't occupied by something. She ended up ambling down one of the beaches and pausing as the hair stood up on the back of her neck. A brief survey of her surroundings turned up nothing but a shoebill that loitered further down the beach. She ignored it for the time being, and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Hey! I know you're out there!"

She fished through the bag she had brought with her, collecting a bottle of Eulmoran wine and a carefully boxed chocolate cake. Setting them both down on a flat rock above the waterline, the Warrior sat down and lounged back, hands behind her head as she prepared to wait. 

"I have cake _and_ wine! How's that for a bribe!?"

The only thing that came for it and her was the tide. 

* * *

That was the first time she had seen him dressed in the stereotypical Ascian garb. As odd as it was to hear him call anyone 'sir', he slipped into the cadence familiar to her periodically through the vision granted by the Echo. It could be no other.

She would have known that voice anywhere. 

It was a shame that pain had wracked her before she could see what mask it was that he had chosen, tearing her out of the memory. Everything internal wanted _out_, and white edged her vision as her knee shit the ground and she caught herself with her hands to keep from going completely down. Someone was choking nearby, and she was surprised to realize it was her as she struggled to breath past the crushing pressure within her.

She was sure that there were words being shared, could vaguely see past the haze of white that had spread and bleached the landscape before the pressure... Eased. There was a _direction_ to it. Instead of _out_, it wanted _ahead_, siphoned by the Crystal Exarch. She knew him. She called to him by name as he smiled and renewed his efforts, and the ringing in her ears had faded just enough to hear the shot that was fired before the world erupted into white once more. 

The last thing she saw was dark hair behind the collapsing Exarch, disturbed only by a single white forelock with _'Monster'_ ringing scornfully in her ears.

* * *

The Warrior sat on one of the crystal domes that made up more than half of the rooftops of the Crystarium, staring blankly out across the too-bright expanse. The others (Ardbert, in her room, and Urianger, who had begged forgiveness for his part) had filled her in on what had been said, both by Emet-Selch and them to the townsfolk before she had rather pointedly started scaling the side of one of the buildings. They knew her well enough that she wanted to be alone for the time being, though she could practically feel Thancred's gaze on her from where he had taken up watch on an adjacent roof. 

All that hard work, and nothing to show for it. 

Worse, all that hard work to make things _worse_, and she tucked a hand to her chest as she navigated her thoughts. Start at square one. Take stock of the situation. Two blades, both forged specifically to cut through aether. Maybe she could turn them on herself-

Her head tipped downwards, hand on her chest curling into a fist as she bared her teeth. Anger, familiar in the way it boiled through her, burned through the white-tinged haze that edged her sight. But what else was she to do? The Crystal Exarch was gone, kidnapped and spirited away. Most of the others were scattered, searching for a way to do more than delay the inevitable. She was too fragile (hah!) to go out and kill things to even let off some steam, at least not without dragging Ryne with her. 

She thought about the Ascian's final wager, the balance of whether she could control and contain the light versus his faith and cooperation. 

The Warrior pushed herself to her feet, gesturing blandly towards where Thancred undoubtedly lingered and beckoning him to meet her on the ground.

There was one person she might yet save before everything went to shit, and she was damn well going to do it. 

* * *

Amaurot was as familiar to her as it was unfamiliar. Of course she didn't say this to the others, playing along as they split up and asked for directions. She knew the trick to finding places she had visited and forgotten about, once she was free of the group she employed it.

Eyes partially closed, the Warrior wandered. 

She knew where she wanted to go. There was a longstanding belief that, even punch-drunk and out of it if you associated a place with 'home' or 'safety' strongly enough your instincts would get you if not there, then at least close. Worst case scenario she found herself in some strange hedgerow and worked her way out from there. 

It turned out that it wasn't necessary, as she lingered on a corner and caught sight of a familiar coat. She had never thought of him as -short- before, but compared to the way the citizens towered over everyone he seemed small in comparison. It was easy to now that his posture, too, was a hold-over from when he doubtless had also been so tall. And there he was, plodding along. 

She shadowed him. Not subtly either, considering his ability to sense aether was off the charts there was hardly a chance that he would miss the towering vortex of light she presumed she looked like now. But still, he didn't teleport away. He even slowed his pace when she was waylaid by some of the citizenry. She took it as a sign that he was actively leading her somewhere.

It turned out to be a set of too-large stairs that he didn't even bother to climb. The Ascian simply stood beside it, surveyed it and then lifted up from the ground to silently glide to roughly the halfway point and then pause, folding his arms. Stretching her fingers, the Warrior decided to forego the stairs as well and simply scaled up the side of the railing and building, and as she came close enough to hear him sigh he did just that and drifted the rest of the way up. 

It was a roofop garden. Thirteen floors up, open on all sides save one and covered by a latticework gazebo. Working her way over the railing, the Warrior touched down and spent a moment catching her breath.

"It must have been that girl. You were coming apart at the seams. You still are, but 'tis a slower process now."

"Ever thought of putting in an elevator there?" Pushing off from the wall she wandered over to find a regular sized table and two chairs, one of them occupied by the Ascian as he snapped his fingers. A pair of mugs materialized on the table, and as she reached for one it filled with a familiar golden-brown liquid. A sip and a sniff confirmed it. "Lominsan ale? A good choice."

"My invitation was to you and you alone." Gloved hands reached out to collect his own mug, and he peered down into the depths of it as if it held an answer he was searching for. "My last act of kindness for you, and you squander it. At least it would have given them a head start."

"Your wager. It's not over yet." She sat down in the empty chair, sipping her drink and sighing before she cradled it in both hands. "My ability to contain the lightwardens powers, versus your faith and cooperation."

"-Please-, you won't last the night and you know it. Your friends have no method with which to stabilize you. All you came here for was that silly little crystal cat." Pale gold eyes were rolled as Emet-Selch leaned back comfortably in his chair. "I won't tell you where he is, you know."

"I know. I'll find him on my own. That's not what I'm asking, anyways." She set her mug down, mirroring his posture and studying him quietly for a moment even as he watched her in turn. "I'm not giving up. Oh, sure, I could probably kill myself and buy them time to find a different solution. I've got the swords for it, even. But you know, I didn't come here to die."

"How, exactly, do you plan on getting through this?" 

"I'm going to be real honest and say that I don't have the faintest idea, but I'm not about to give up after coming this far." She set her jaw, squaring herself in the chair as she lifted her chin. "I'm going to keep at it, until the very end. Even after that, if I can. Come on, what's the worst that can happen? I actually don't die, I don't turn and you... Have to talk to me?" 

He eyed her before huffing and setting down his drink, leaning forward to settle his elbows against the table and clasp his hands together. "You're asking me to look at our cards, see that you have the losing hand on the very final round of our game, and let you play it out to the completion. There is simply no _point_."

"I'm not asking you to do it for free. Not even for me, either." -That- got his attention, and his pale gold eyes narrowed as she raised her hands. "If I turn into a sin eater, into _the_ sin eater, that's it for my soul, isn't it. You don't want that, but you're willing to sacrifice me if it means getting closer to your goal. I'm a consolation prize to you, top five instead of top three important things I'd hazard a guess."

"I'm listening." The Ascian drawled, leaning back and propping one arm up on the back of the chair as he stretched out his legs, folding one over the other. 

"I don't have all the pieces, but I'm not blind either. Play with me. Test me. Keep to what we've wagered. Do it for _them_."

Emet-Selch huffed out an amused tone, brows lifting and meeting below his third eye. "You don't even know what _gender_ they were, nor if they were remotely important to me."

"But you -do- recognize bits of them. When I said I felt like I've known you forever, you couldn't look at me. Parts of me have, haven't they. I know how I feel, and I know how you react. It's the easy slipping into old habits and camaraderie of two people that were close. The last time we talked properly, you weren't exactly talking about me, but about them. When I leapt from the tree the night of the festival, that wasn't the face of someone worried about -me-, you'd seen that before. You _cared_. Your aetherical gut clenched and went 'not again'. You know the hue of my soul, in such a way that it both hurts you to look at and invites you to stare." The Ascian's face had settled into a mildly indifferent expression, though his eyes had both sharpened and hardened. It was thin ice she was proverbially sliding on, and she reached to snag the mug in front of her and take a sip before she continued. "My bribe is information. But I need to know if you're on board or if you're about to obliterate me off the face of existence or not before I go any farther."

He was silent for a long moment, bringing his hands together so that he could lightly weave his fingers and press his thumbs against one another. She almost thought he was about to say no before the Ascian abruptly closed his eyes and sighed. 

"... Very well, little Monster. Offer your bribe."

"I won't tell you who's got it, but we brought white auracite with us."

* * *

The group found him, for once. Entering the Capital, he met them just inside the doors. 

"What ever am I to do with you?" Stepping free of the shadows that coalesced to form a doorway, the Ascian folded his arms and sighed before sweeping his gaze across the group. "You yet insist on keeping the same familiar company. Are you so lost without them?"

"It is not she who is lost without the familiar." Y'shtola bristled, ears flat and the fur of her tail standing on end. One of her hands had drifted up to rest against the staff across her back as she spoke. "Not content with recreating an entire city, you aim to fill it with the reconstituted souls of the dead."

"I may have gotten a little carried away, in my attention to detail. Added a few unnecessary flourishes..." Emet-Selch mumbled slightly, trailing off as he tapped his fingers together and looked off to the side only to spread them and smile, pale gold eyes refocusing on the group. "Weeell, there's no point trying to hide it. Yes. Once the rejoining of worlds is complete, Zodiark will regain His strength and shatter His prison. Then we shall offer up the Source's remaining inhabitants in sacrifice, that we might resurrect our brethren who died to bring Zodiark into existence-"

"The Ananta tribe tried that, and it didn't work." The Warrior stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he dropped his arms and huffed. "The girl was empty. They suffered for nothing, _you_ are going to suffer for nothing-"

"Going to?" Emet-Selch sputtered, before throwing his head back and laughing. "Look at me! I have lived a thousand _thousand_ of your lives! I have broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old! Sired children and yes, welcomed death's sweet embrace. For eons have I measured your worth and found you wanting! Too weak and feeble-minded to serve as stewards of any star! I have suffered! But it is not _I_ that this test is for."

"Let us imagine that the laws of reality are again undone, and the world faces true annihilation." The Ascian held out his hands, cupping them together as the air flickered above them to form an illusion of the Source. Blowing on it, it drifted idly out towards the group, coming to rest above them. Red began to bloom across it, streaked with tendrils of black. "Do you honestly believe that half of your number would sacrifice themselves to save the other?"

"They wo-"

"Of course they wouldn't!" He snapped his fingers, the Warrior's words fading before his own as his face twisted into a frustrated scowl. "And if you had witnessed history unfold as _I_ have, you would reach the _same_ conclusion! You... cannot be entrusted with our legacy."

"Zodiark's blinded you, Architect. Every Primal I've ever faced, countless people have put their lives on the line, countless people have made that choice to step forward, to soak the brunt of the cost so that those that could not fight might live for even just one more day. If I turn back now, I'll betray everything I, they, _WE_ have ever fought for!" She thumped a hand against her chest, shoulders squared and watching as the Ascian's expression shifted into that of a sneer. "People keep asking why do I fight, what keeps me going, well that's it! That's _my_ answer."

"You think the tattered souls you defend are of equal worth to those _I_ lost?" He turned away, facing the door as something thumped behind it. One of his hands raised, fingers snapping and sending the doors open and spreading his arms as if to welcome the fire that roared into existence behind it. "Then come- earn your place. Prove yourselves worthy to inherit this star. Behold, the coming oblivion. 'Twas the end of our era, and the beginning of our great work. A fitting backdrop... for your final judgement. I shall wait within, but do not spend too much time on your preparations. There's no telling how much longer the guest of honour will last."

And then he was gone, lost amid the swirling flames.

* * *

"Well well, you prevailed... Nevertheless!" The Ascian snapped his fingers, streamers of black highlighted by red reaching out and barreling through the group sending them staggering. As they faded, he sighed. "Your performance was underwhelming, and I remain unconvinced of your worthiness. Oh, you tower over your misbegotten ilk, no doubt. But should I bring my full strength to bear, well... you would be as leaves in the wind."

The Warrior pushed herself up, brows furrowing. Several things were clicking into place all at once, and she didn't like where they were going. 

"The gulf between us is a reflection of the disparity between the world as it was... and what it has become." 

Alisaie streaked past, rapier impacting against a familiar shield that swirled with reds, blues and dark tones, and at any other time the Warrior would have laughed at the look on Emet-Selch's face. Coupled with his slouched posture, it spoke of 'why me' with tones of 'must we?', before he lifted a hand and almost casually gave it a wave, sending the red-clad twin skidding back. 

"My world... Will have no need for heroes." 

She opened her mouth to speak, and white bloomed across her vision. 

_Not now!_ The Warrior curled, doubling over with a grunt as she teetered. It was worse than the inopportune summoning by the Exarch that had leveled her before Zenos. At the edge of her hearing rang a keening tone, that of crystal on the verge of breaking, and it was underscored by the words she could faintly hear. 

_"... Rise... cleanse **our** world...!"_

_"You have... to hold on...!"_

Somewhere near by, crystal cracked, and pain bloomed across her, through her, consuming her sensibilities. 

* * *

"I figured it out, you know." 

The Warrior snapped her head up, blinking against the bright white that was everything and everywhere that she was not. A glance to her right brought Ardbert's familiar frame into focus, and she tried hard not to question the direct presence of pain. The very air had the feel of a needle against skin, that instant between the prick and the pain and it had her unconsciously rubbing the inside of one of her elbows. "All ears. If you have any ideas, now's the time."

"Hythlodaeus spelled it out for me. Why Minfillia held me back from giving myself the same way my friends had. Now I know. Just like I know you can do this."

The Warrior of Darkness turned to face her, and offered out a hand as he smiled. 

"I think... I can rest now. Knowing that I'm giving you the strength to go on. I'm saving Norvrandt. The way I'd wanted to. The way we'd wanted to. Me and my friends, you and yours." 

She took his hand, and as he helped her to her feet.

* * *

Anger bubbled through her veins. Wrath at Zodiark, for making him deaf and blind to reason. Rage at Emet-Selch, for hurting her friends. Utter blinding loathing that this light that swelled within her had chosen the one, singular moment that she might have had to convince him that they didn't need to fight to try and _break_ her. She wrapped the emotion around her like she had his coat, sought out the core of that light, and _squeezed_. 

It struggled, a bird beating it's wings against the cage of her fingers, and through the ringing in her ears something went _crunch_ with the same sensation as wet snow being packed down into a tighter, firmer ball. The blinding, searing light that screamed through her... Stopped. Silenced with the proverbial grasp she had over it, and this time when she opened her eyes she found herself once more standing atop uneven, purple stone. 

"It can't be..."

He was _looking_ at her. Looking at her with fear and hope and despair, and she _knew_ him. Pale golds woven through royal amethyst. And there, coiled about his heart, while behind him approached...

"Bah, a trick of the light. You are a broken husk, nothing more. How can you hope to stand against me alone?" 

"We stand together!" The Crystal Exarch, standing only by the strength of will that had born him thus far, was gritting his teeth as he slowly straightened, and in that moment the Ascian turned around...

She had always been fast. He had been able to follow her while focused upon her, but now he reeled from the implication that he what he might have seen may have not been a lie, shying away from the truth even as he turned his eyes and senses towards the battered bundle of determination that had been willing to give everything for the life of his hero... 

She had the auracite. She could see where she needed to hit, the body overlaid with the way the soul that inhabited it filled it and the air around it. The Exarch had given her the barest of distractions, the smallest of openings, and she took it. His head came up as she crossed the last breath of space and collided with his back, reached through him, _into_ him, pulled through the white crystal in her off hand and closed her ears to the scream that tore through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I love all of you that have commented! I was so nervous that my take on Emet-Selch might be way off but all of you are giving me buckets of confidence ahhhgghifejakdlk!!!!  
From here on, we're in largely uncharted waters.  
I never found anything that said auracite couldn't siphon parts of people.


	4. The vagabond is moving slow

There were voices, near and far at the same time. He tried to avoid focusing on them, because he knew with certainty that the moment he did was the moment that pain would return. Even knowing that was dangerous, as proven by how even acknowledging that fact brought him far enough out of the comforting nothingness that the aforementioned pain lanced through him. Someone was screaming, and the strange pressure he hadn't registered until then across his essence increased. 

_"There's got to be something you can do! Urianger, Y'shtola, come on!"_

_"He's unraveling. Too much of him was tied into his tempering. It's not a matter of healing -him- so much as it is stopping his aether from leaking everywhere and dissipating."_

_"Well then crystalize it!"_

And then he was drifting again, as nothingness and numbness suffused him. 

* * *

He was simply too -big- to move. was the problem. After tearing his tempering away, the Ascian had lost his grip on the body he had possessed and spilled out in all directions. Several frantic moments of scrambling to rouse the Scions and secure G'raha Tia they had pooled together their resources and ideas to buy him some time. Thancred had been absolutely essential, if reluctantly so, with how he had retraced their steps, found Hythlodaeus and dragged the shade back with him. 

While the Amaurotine shade hadn't been able to directly help, they had been able to give them advice and direct a shared effort to force the Ascian to manifest into the somewhat solid form that was, it was explained, the equivalent of his true form. Now he was sprawled out across the platform, talon-laden arms spread eagle and the two smaller, more humanoid ones folded neatly just above the red mask that covered his core. Countless smaller masks layered the two larger tendrils that she couldn't help but liken to wings, eyes blank and staring as she dragged the still-breathing body he had worn previously closer to him and settled her hands on her hips, puffing out her cheeks. 

"Maybe if we roll these flappy masked bits up like rugs...?" 

"Ryne hath confirmed by linkshell that they have thusly returned safely to the Crystarium." Urianger made his way over, reaching to rest a hand on her shoulder and give her a slight shake. "I needs must return to Bismarck, to fulfill mine half of our deal."

"Go on. Y'shtola confirmed that I'm not in any more danger. I've got Daeus' shade here with me somewhere, I'm sure if I need anything I can find them." She glanced over and up, smiling easily and making a gentle shooing motion, to which the elezen furrowed his brows. 

"If thou art certain-"

"I am. Go on now, get. I know how little you like water, so best that you get it done and over with as quick as you can, yeah? Worst case, I swim to the surface and catch a ride from Eulmore. I -can- breath water, after all." Her words were met with a nod, though he glanced at the sprawled out Ascian and grimaced. Still, the elezen turned and started to pick his way through the rubble, making his way back towards the path that would lead him out of the capital. 

Silence reigned for a long moment, before she squinted at the Garlean body and crouched down to start lifting the hands one at a time. There was a sense of _listening_ that permeated the air for a moment, before she gave the much larger prone form an exasperated look. 

"Wow, not even so much as a twitch when I steal your gloves. I know you're awake, you know."

**<<... Do I even _want_ to know what you did to me.>>**

"I mean, probably. It's sort of important. It can wait a few minutes though, while you get yourself sorted." She pushed herself to her feet and worked her gloves off, replacing them with the white ones she had stolen and flexing her fingers slowly within them. "Man, your hands are _huge_ compared to mine."

Two talon-laden fingers at the ends of the larger appendages twitched, and she blinked as she caught the movement and laughed. 

"Not what I meant! Whatever you used to line these gloves is super soft. What is it?"

**<<A very specific type of wool. You... Aren't afraid of me, like this?>>**

"I literally just compared parts of you to Eulmoran carpets not even ten minutes ago. I've faced down Primals. I just about died. I think I've run out of fear, for the day. For now I'm just... Tired." She shrugged, stepping back as the prone figure started to prop itself up on the massive elbows of the two larger limbs. Streamers of purple swirled across the torso, and an echoing sigh reverberating out as the Ascian levered himself up and took stock of his situation. 

"Also? Saved your body." She gestured down to the prone, unconscious form of the empty vessel, free hand producing the note she had snuck into the lantern. "I'll count it as the blank for your 'I Owe You One Blank' card, and take this back. Y'shtola's body for yours. Fair deal, that."

**<<Great. Now you're _gloating_.>>**

"Only some what. I'm still kind of riding that 'Glad That Worked Out' high of not-dying. I sort of get why flying and floating come naturally to you now. You've got no legs." 

The torso shifted, tilting as if to peer down at itself before a hum vibrated the air. 

**<<So it would seem. However am I to go to a bar and hope to use the facilities now.>>**

She laughed at that, and as he observed her soul found himself buoyed by the relief he found there. The two humanoid arms felt about his form for a moment, reaching out to turn this way and that as the Ascian inspected the damage done to him, starting to drift almost lazily in the air as he did. 

**<<... It's gone. You... Tore Him out of me.>>**

The Warrior winced at that, nodding and reaching to tuck a hand against the handle of one of her blades. "Yeah, I, ahh... I did. You're free, though I don't expect to be thanked for that. It looked like it hurt. Can... We talk about that later? It's not that I don't want to, but I've had... Possibly one of the closest brushes with death that I've ever had, and I'd rather leave the friendship I'm hoping we still have somewhat nebulous for the moment instead of you just outright telling me that you never want to see me again."

**<<I suppose I _should_ do something about this. 'Tis also the closest brush with death I've had as well since time immemorial.>>**

One of the humanoid hands reached out, snapping and abruptly the mass of him vanished. She peered around for a moment before moving back to the body and crouching down, idly poking and prodding before he blinked and shot her an irritated glare. 

"Stop that."

* * *

They had limped their way back out of the Capital and made their way to his rooms by way of a lift in one of the side buildings. Neither of them spoke much beyond the simple things, such as a muttered thanks for a door being opened or a quiet indication for the other to go first. His rooms were surprisingly normal, if lavish, and he all but locked himself in the bedroom as soon as he got there. 

She couldn't blame him. She didn't know where they stood with each other either, He hadn't asked for his gloves back, however, so she felt there might be hope yet. Looking around, she settled onto the couch and debated whether she trusted him to avoid strangling her in her sleep. Did Ascians even sleep? They certainly could go unconscious, but a certain willingness to do so had been absent the last time.

Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. The white auracite was safely back at the Crystarium, borne there by the Scions for safe keeping for the time being. The only thing she had to lose was her life. No big deal.

The Warrior stretched out and curled to put her face against the plush material, and let go.

It wasn't long after she had drifted off to sleep that the bedroom door quietly unlocked and eased open, pale gold eyes marking her form where it lay. Stalking forward, the Ascian trusted the thick carpeting to negate the sound of his steps and spent a long moment simply staring at her. 

She wasn't particularly tall. Average, really, with average looks. Thick-knuckled hands that came from a mortal's lifetime of fighting, countless scars that ranged from long and thin to small and round. Laying down, curled as she was she seemed even smaller than he thought she was. Reaching out, he thought about how easy it might be to snuff the candle's flame that was her life, fingers an ilm away from her shoulder... But no. He reached past, ever so carefully tucking a strand of hair back from where it had curled over her cheek and threatened to tickle her nose. 

His senses hadn't been playing tricks on him. The faded, washed out colour of her soul had darkened somewhat. Gained strength, and vibrancy. Not much, but... Some. A degree of it. While it was still full to bursting with blinding light, it was contained and compacted down into a manageable mass. The specter he had seen-

Her soul shifted, and the air gained a sense of _listening_ before she groggily cracked an eye open and peered at him. 

"M'comfy. Kill me later."

"-Please-, I'm not going to kill you." He huffed, folding his arms and looking away. 

"Then either get on th'couch or go back t'bed. Can feel looming."

"You very nearly kill me, and then think to offer me space on my own couch?" Pale gold eyes turned back to her, and he huffed as she grunted and shifted. She reached out, snagging him by the arm and hauling him down so that he had the choice of either leaning against the couch while he sat on the ground, or perching on the edge, and as one was far closer than the other he staggered and twisted to sit on the edge of the couch. She took advantage of it to shift and tuck her shoulder against his thigh and prop her head up on his knee. "What _are_ you doing, Hero?"

"If yer nuh gunna go 'way, then be useful. Be pillow."

The Ascian huffed, but lingered.

* * *

When she awoke, it was to unfamiliar surroundings. Thick drapes squared off what she presumed by the softness to be a body pillow on a bed, and as nothing seemed immediately keen on stabbing her she took the time to close her eyes and snuggle into the fur trimmed fabric until it moved and she froze. 

"Thirteen hours, thirty minutes and two handspan of seconds, Hero. Do you have _any_ idea how many calls I have fielded for you?" The voice was accompanied by a huff, and she furrowed her brow as she felt about to confirm her suspicions. 

Chest. Arm. Neck. Face. Nose. It's owner grunted and shifted, lifting his chin. 

"Simply because I have a third eye does -not- mean I need not the other two. Please _do_ mind your fingers."

"Do I got my clothes on?" 

"Should I feel flattered that you checked for my identity before you asked that, or insulted that it was your first question upon confirming who I am."

"Yes." She cracked open her eyes once more, before rolling to the side and starting to check herself over. No weapons, no boots, just her pants, shirt and what she wore under them. 

"Your friends are due to make contact in another half an hour, Hero." Emet-Selch propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she sat up and stretched. A wide yawn pulled at her lips, and the Warrior tried to stifle it behind a hand, only to fail as she yawned again a moment later. 

"Wasn't I on the couch?" Tilting her head, she cracked her neck and then rolled her shoulders, peering around at the small space they were in. 

"You wouldn't let go of my wrist, and I got -bored- of sitting precariously perched on the edge." 

"And you entertained yourself by finding all save for one of my throwing daggers I see. Well, at least it proves you didn't put your hands anywhere inappropriate." He eyed her at that, and she grinned as she rubbed at her face before the expression faded. "... Are... No, that's the wrong question, isn't it. I think it's safe to say that I won our wager, though. I'm not breaking any more."

"Hero of the hour indeed." 

"Eyugh. Some hero. I barely managed to save everyone." Her words drew a scoffed huff from him as he flopped back down. 

"I disagree. None of them seemed to be in any _real_ danger."

"Everyone, Architect. That includes you." The Warrior reached out to try and snag a pillow so that she could lightly whump him in the chest with it. "Though... I, uhh... I got a sort of awkward question I can't help but ask. About your tempering."

The Ascian tilted his head, watching her with a tired sigh as she pulled the pillow back to her and wrapped her arms around it. "Get on with it. 'Tis plain to see that the topic fairly burns with the need to be aired, like so much laundry."

"How would you know? You're the Garlean Emperor. You've probably never done laundry a day in your life." She smirked at the way he rolled his eyes, leaning back as he tugged the pillow out from under his head and swatted at her with it. 

"By all means, please, do continue to stall. Only one of us has forever, I can find ways to distract myself until you are naught but dust and ash and cannot ask."

"I basically pulled out your heart and removed your love of the thing you cherished above even your own existence. I'm not going to say sorry for it, either, only that I'm sorry that it caused you the pain that it did. I don't think I've ever heard anything scream quite like that." Her face scrunched into an expression of discomfort, before she glanced away and side-eyed the Ascian that had propped himself up on his elbows once more. "Do you... Do you feel differently, now that influence is gone? About Zodiark? Do you understand just how many lives there are that you're planning to kill, if you still feel the same way?"

"I always understood the loss of what you consider 'lives'. My ability to solve math equations has not diminished simply because I am no longer compelled to worship the Saviour of this Star." Retort tinged with bitterness, Emet-Selch tucked the pillow back behind his head and flopped back down, resting his hands on his chest. At length, he sighed and closed his eyes. "... I thought about it, you know. About what this means. About what you said, while I was tempered. What are you going to do if my choices, path and answers remain the same?"

"Probably be really sad and not look forward to when I have to actually fight you"

"Why."

His question drew a thoughtful hum from the Warrior, and she tilted so that she could flop onto her side and stretch out as well, watching him from over the edge of her captive pillow. "Because it would mean that I'd have to fight someone I considered a friend. Someone who seemed to consider _me_ a friend. Someone that made fun wagers with me, sassed me and could take being sassed back."

"You wouldn't simply kill me?"

"What? No." She grimaced, nose wrinkling. "Not unless I had no other choice. Call it a weakness, but as long as there's even an ilm of a chance that I can get you to see reason, I don't want to lose you."

"-Please-, we're hardly that close-"

"Your name is Hades."

The Ascian sat up abruptly, head snapping around to stare down at her as she solemnly met his gaze and held it. 

"Before you ask, no, I don't remember everything. But while I dreamed, it was like my Echo was picking up bits and pieces of the past. I don't know a whole lot, but I know enough about who I was, and who you were, that I would only fight you with the intent to kill you if I had no other choice. Still, I'm not that person. I understand that it's not... Good, looking at people and seeing fragments of who you remember they should be. But not even a Primal can bring people back like that. All the shades and souls that you carry, they're memories. The lifestream that they were made of, it's all dispersed. And sure, you could force rejoining after rejoining after rejoining, until everything's all attached to the Source again, but that still won't bring them back. You could recreate them all you liked, but they'd just be empty. It's been too long."

"So you would have me simply _give up__!?_" The Ascian's face had twisted into bitter disbelief as he leaned away, hands settling on the sheets to fist in the material. "The work of a _thousand thousand lifetimes,_ discarded-?"

"Hells, will you listen to me for a moment?" She sat up as well, eyes narrowing as she stared him down. "What is it, exactly, that you said to Meridian after the accident that claimed their partner's life! 'The best thing you can do now, 'tis to look around you and forge healthy, new connections while honouring the one that has been severed' wasn't it? People couldn't be brought back then, and they can't be brought back now, but that doesn't mean that _your_ life is over!"

The words rang through the space between them. He thought to turn, to leave even as he strangled the bitterness and mounting loss that burned a hole in his chest but she was there, throwing the pillow aside and snagging him by the wrists and pulling him against her as she readjusted and wrapped her arms around him. 

"I know what it's like, to look back and count just how many people died. How many people you couldn't save! Every Primal I've faced has left casualties of some sort. And it hurts! Holy Hells, but it burns me from the inside out to be the one left over, the one left behind! There was enough spilled aether at the Wall that all it took was one more death and the flickering remnants of power within two dragon's eyes to forge a whole new Primal! I helped to haul Lyse away from Papalymo when he burned his candle at both ends to buy us enough time to get her out of there! I stood in the smoking crater of Praetorium when Lahabrea unleashed Ultima, and I felt the weight of each and every one of those people that I failed to save, Garlean or otherwise!" She was shaking now, trembling with grief that bled straight into wrath even as she hugged him against her. "Because I wasn't _good enough_, Urianger's fiance sacrificed herself, right in front of me!"

"Hero-"

"Stop. Do _not_ call me that." The words were spat out over his shoulder, and he slowly lifted his hands to gently settle them on her back, pale gold eyes partially closing as the Warrior's voice eased and turned from bitter to mournful. "I have seen more death in my score and ten and two years than anyone should have witnessed in a century, Hades. Death is death. You can't un-kill someone. Someone can't _be_ un-killed. But you can live on after the fact. You, who have broken bread with us. Who has fought with us, grown old, grown ill. Who has sired children and welcomed death's sweet embrace. Look back on it all, and _remember_, all the small moments of happiness. The horrible dancing, the good wines. Live for the people who couldn't. A thousand thousand lifetimes isn't long enough to do that in."

"I'm not saying that Hydaelyn was right in what she did. But I _am_ saying that we're here. We're _alive_. All the people you're trying to kill to fulfill an impossible dream, they're all alive. That you're alive too." She leaned back, face scrunched as she fiercely fought to keep herself composed and reached to try and gently cup his cheeks. prompting him to slowly open his eyes and meet her gaze. "So live."

* * *

They startled Ryne when they both stepped out of the swirl of darkness, and the Warrior smiled easily as she clapped the girl on the shoulder. 

"I know, I know, you were trying to call me by Linkshell. Worried and all that. Is everyone in the Ocular?" 

"No, but they can be soon. We've been discussing what to do." The former Minfillia smiled slightly, nervously as she glanced at the Ascian who was idly looking around. 

"Wonderful. Do me a favour, go and get everyone? I'm pretty sure they all want to talk to me either way, might as well get everyone together and get the scoldings over with all at once." The Warrior smiled as Ryne giggled and nodded, waving as she turned to run off. 

"I truly _must_ have a conversation with the Crystal Exarch on the nature of the method he used to cross time and space to get here." Folding his arms, the Ascian glanced down at the Warrior as she snickered. 

"You've all the time in the world, but I might need your help before you get the chance to. Care to make a wager with me?" She started to amble along, and with a long-suffering sigh Emet-Selch meandered along after her. 

"You've won the last two. Somehow I simply do _not_ like my odds. Out with it."

"There's the standard set. Thancred glares, Y'shtola glares, Urianger looks borderline unhappy and composed, and Alisaie glares. Alphinaud remains diplomatic. G'raha Tia has his hood down. These are all things that are pretty much guaranteed to happen, right?" She pivoted as she walked, clasping her hands about the hilts of her swords as she did simply for something to do and keeping pace with his stride easily. He nodded, so she continued. "My wager, is that I can get Thancred to ask after your health before you can get anyone else in that room to ask after mine."

"And the stakes?" He glanced at the incoming ledge, quirking a brow as she pivoted and partially hopped, rolling onto the ledge and making it back to her feet in time to offer a hand down. He ignored it in favour of simply floating up and resuming walking. 

"I dunno. Honestly I thought you were going to tell me to go play with myself in a dark alley, so I didn't think that far ahead. I'm still having trouble reading your mood and trying really hard to act like everything's okay so that the tenuous balance we've got doesn't get tipped the wrong way." The Warrior shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets as she ambled along. "You pick."

"You already gave me back my gloves. Perhaps you wish something equally ridiculous, such as my boots?" He quirked a brow as she paused, considering his words and then skipping to catch up. "Very well. A day of wearing my boots, and in exchange you must learn whether the Crystal Exarch _does_ still have his tail or not."

"Deal." Sticking out her hand, he sighed and shook it before starting up the steps to the tower. They were escorted to the Ocular, where the Scions had gathered. They turned to greet her, hesitating when they noted who followed her and exchanging glances as she swept past them and turned to address the room from beside the Tia. 

"Good to see everyone's healing and-or healed! Looking at you, Exarch." She nudged him gently with an elbow before looking towards the rest of the Scions. "Announcement real quick. As Emet-Selch is basically the immortal equivalent of unemployed at the moment, he's graciously agreed to remain on hand to dispense the wisdom and advice of the ages. Sort of. I may or may not have bullied him into it. That -said-, as he's one of the few beings in existence that can move more or less freely between here and the Source, I've roped him into helping us look for solutions to the communal problem of 'how to get the Scion's souls back to their bodies'." 

She raised a hand as Thancred opened his mouth, stalling him. "We don't expect to have immediate results for you. I don't care how much you don't trust him. He's stuck working with me, not you. We've already begun theory crafting. He also graciously let me use him as a pillow when I fell asleep on him, without trying to kill me. Emet-Selch, are you comfortable leaving your current vessel in the care of the Crystal Exarch while we're back on the Source?"

Ryne and Thancred shared a glance, the former looking baffled and the latter looking confused as the Ascian plodded past them with a sigh. 

"If I must. 'Tis easier to move between worlds and inhabit one than it is to forge one, after all."

"You're taking him with you?" Y'shtola scowled, looking between the Ascian and the Warrior. "Just because he didn't kill you while he was recovering-"

"Does he -look- okay to you? I don't even have the ability to sense people's aether and I can tell he's in terrible condition. Just look at him." The Warrior gestured up and down as if to encompass all of him and then stepped forward to nudge his side and arm. For his part, the Ascian weathered the poking and prodding with grace, though the way his shoulders slumped spoke volumes about his resignation to the entire affair. "He'd have a terrible time of it if he tried anything now."

"-Please-, spare me the indignity. While 'tis true I may have some mild difficulty, I could still obliterate you in an instant if I so chose to." 

"I have to ask though, are... Are you okay? Are you _really_ okay?" Ryne stepped forward, one hand held in front of her throat as she watched the Warrior who threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. Emet-Selch shot her a smug look, before folding his arms and tapping his toes audibly against the floor. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. really, I am. I slept for thirteen hours, and boy did I need it. Man, I was so close, too. I had a whole thing lined up. Hey, G'raha Tia, quick question." 

The Crystal Exarch blinked, looking startled as the Warrior stepped up to clap him on the shoulders. "What do you require, Hero?"

"Y'shtola's going to set me on fire for this, but you still have your tail right? Is it part red, part silver like your hair?"

"You-! That's an intimately _personal_ question, you can't just-" The Scion in question looked aghast, though she quieted when the red-faced Exarch waved his hand as if to calm her. 

"An... Interesting question. Yes, I do. And... It is." He cleared his throat, before blinking as she beamed at him. 

"Wonderful! You wear the colours well. Is the portal ready to go?"

He pointed back towards the subtle swirl against the wall where the scrying spell usually lingered.

"Fantstic! Next time I'm around, I'll have to ask you to show me your tail! I'll be back in a few days goodbye~" And then she was gone, leaving most of the Scions blinking until the Ascian couldn't hide his snickering any longer. Moving to the wall and putting his back to it, he raised a hand and waved even as he sat down.

"That Brat! I didn't even get to say goodbye-" Y'shtola stomped her foot as G'raha Tia turned and nodded to the Ascian. 

"_Do_ try to take care of this body. I'd hate to think of what might happen if I couldn't find it again. Who knows who I might have to inhabit. Though, I'm told Thancred at least has practice..."

"You-!"

Closing his eyes to Thancred's indignant glare, he let the body go limp and sent his mind and essence across the expanse.

* * *

"Quite the escape." A swirl of darkness to her left had the Warrior glancing over even as she stretched and checked over her gear. She was just outside of the Scion's headquarters, and smirked as Emet-Selch touched down near by with a matching quirk of the corner of his lips. 

"I'm really bad at goodbyes. Besides, I thought you might get a kick out of it."

"Hmm, consider yourself upon the first step of the path to forgiveness." He blinked, before glancing up and pursing his lips. "... Elidibus seeks my attention. Joy of joys."

"I made no claim that you were attached to me by the hip. Do what you need to do. I'm honestly surprised you stuck around me this long." The Warrior stretched idly, before blinking as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a hug from behind. 

"The forlorn hope is that your Echo will recover your memories by proximity, and inform you of the things I cannot bring myself to speak of. You expressed a wish to learn after our chat, after all, fragmented thing that you are." Releasing her, the Ascian stepped back and sighed, a swirl of darkness opening behind him. 

"Hey, Hades?"

He hummed as he paused, mid-turn towards the portal to glance over at her. She offered him a wave and a slight smile. 

"You owe me chocolate cake for what I wasted waiting for your ass on the shores of Eulmore. I expect you'll survive long enough to show up again and pay me back."

He huffed, rolled his eyes and was swallowed up by the darkness that vanished after he stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got surprisingly heavy. Neither of them are quite right, but I like to think that by the end of the chapter, they're closer.  
They both have some stuff they've got to deal with.


	5. The wild beast is searching for sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat sad. Somewhat light hearted.

It was odd, standing in the room with the bodies of her unconscious friends. Doubly so when one considered that Urianger was wearing his Scions outfit as opposed to the <strike>dress</strike> robe he had taken to in Il Mheg. After surviving Tataru and giving a lengthy run down and report on what, exactly had happened, the lalafel had disappeared for all of five minutes and returned with a basket that had made the Warrior's heart soar with joy.

"I promised myself that if you ever came back, I'd give you this. Ohh, don't ever go away that long ever again!"

Solemnly, carefully, mindful of the dozen glass bottles that were carefully tucked into the basket she accepted the gift and settled on one knee so that she could give the teary-eyed Secret Weapon of the Scions a one-armed hug. "I sent you a fairy to let you know I was still alive and kicking. It was all I could do."

"Ohhh!" Tataru stomped her foot, pushing out of the hug and wiping her eyes as she pouted. "That little-! She stole my hat!"

"She gave it back later." Reaching to adjust the aforementioned hat, the Warrior had smiled and then pushed herself to her feet and asked which way to go.

And now she was there, staring at Urianger and wondering if he intended to find clothes closer to what he had worn for the fairies when he got back. Then there was Thancred. Sure he would probably come back, but did he want to? What about Ryne? What about Y'shtola's Blessed? What about-?

She was thinking too much again. If this kept up, she'd find herself with no room left to act. A quiet sound hummed through the air, and she didn't bother to turn her head as an Ascian stepped out of the shadows that had manifested beside her until she noted that it was wearing _white_. 

"Elidibus? Please tell me you heard I've got Blackbelly brandy and just came for a drink."

"Surprisingly cordial. What did you do to Emet-Selch."

"You're the Emissary, aren't you? Entails a bit of diplomacy on both sides. What did _you_ do to Emet-Selch? He's late." She looked over, before the faint hum of another vortex of darkness opened around her, at her other shoulder. A glance revealed the fur-trimmed coat she had stolen, and he paused as he caught sight of the other Ascian in the room. She was prvately smug to note that he was holding a white box tucked under his arm. "Oh phew. Looks like you just talked."

"Emissary."

"Architect."

"Aaawkward~." The Warrior moved to sit down on the edge of one of the beds and hauled the basket into her lap, sorting through the bottles it contained. "Fresh out of wine but I've got six brandies, three beers and three rums. Emet-Selch?"

"Rum. 'Tis all of those listed that would go with cake." Pale gold eyes flicked away from the red mask of his brethren as he made his way over and set the box down beside her, accepting the bottle she offered and studying it for a moment. 

"Elidibus, I'd offer but seeing as I don't know what you might like, I guess I'll just have to offer you words instead." She selected one of the brandies for herself and slid the basket to the floor. A tug removed the cork, and she sniffed it for a moment even as the Architect sat down on the bed on the other side of the cake and did much the same. "Cheers."

Emet-Selch raised his bottle, tapping it against her own before they both took a sip. Contrasting her grimace, he looked thoughtfully at the bottle and hummed, intrigued. 

"Hlaauugh... Lucky bugger. I forgot that Blackbelly's oily."

"_This_ is what you do with the time you spend with the Warrior of Light?" Elidibus sounded cautiously baffled, mask shifting as he looked back and forth between the two of them. 

"You expected heated debates about the legality of possessing and warping the bodies of the unknown and whether 'tis morally repugnant to burn the lives of countless as fuel to return those lives spent in service to Him?" A dark eyebrow arched as Emet-Selch reached out to swap bottles with the Warrior and then nudged the box towards her. She ohh'd quietly and hauled it up, lifting the lid and grinning. "You of all people should know that mixing work with play makes life insufferably _dull_."

"She returned you to this world a shadow of your former strength, and you forgive her? Just like that?"

"You presume much, to think I've _forgiven_ her-"

"She's right here, you know." The 'she' in question reached down, collected a bottle of beer and held it out towards the Emissary. "Look, you've got a funny idea about forgiveness if you think it happens just like that. You gotta work at it. Which is why I'm working at it. _TakethebeeryouAsciansonofa-_"

Emet-Selch waved a hand over the beer with a sigh, and it vanished only to reappear in the Emissary's hand. 

"Close enough. We're _friends_. Or at least some semblance of that. So yeah we're going to spend time comparing vintages and pointedly not talking about work. Just because we disagree about world views doesn't mean I'm going to try and stab him every second of every day. I'd try and do the same with you if you'd stop spouting off about Zodiark in almost every interaction we have. I've already started! I gave you one of my precious gift-drinks."

Elidibus angled his head down, staring at the bottle, before looking at the Architect. 

"We will speak more on this. Later."

Waving that little three-part wave as the Emissary vanished into a rift, Emet-Selch sighed and hunched to rest his elbows on his knees. The Warrior sipped her rum and 

"... Is he gone? Gone-gone?"

"He is."

And she was off, bolting towards the door and tearing through it before he could even finish raising the bottle to his lips to take a sip. Grimacing, he eyed the liquid in the bottle and wrinkled his nose. 

"Zodiark's Mercy, what do they make this stuff with?"

* * *

She pointedly did not want to know where the unconscious bodies of the Scions were being moved to. She'd be less inclined to sneak in and visit that way. And so it was that after they were whisked away by a small troupe of guards under the competent direction of Tataru, that the Warrior of Light now sat in the almost empty room that her friends had laid in, alone save for the Ascian that was currently licking the last of the chocolate icing off his plate. 

"That was a good cake. Do you think he just doesn't like beer?"

"Elidibus? I recall that he does. 'Tis a working-class drink, and he is nothing if not dedicated to his job. The darker the better." Emet-Selch glanced over at where she was sitting on the ground, licking icing out of the unfolded box. "... I learned today that my grandson, Varis, has died."

She froze, before blinking up at him and then looking down at the basket of brandies, beers and rums. She hauled herself up, picked it up and offered it out to him. "Oh, shit. You probably need this more than I do." 

The Ascian barked out a hollow, empty laugh before reaching out to accept it, inspecting the contents briefly and setting them aside. "He held no love for the thought of family. Zenos was his end, and for so simple a reason as to fight _you_ without interference."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that I'm the be all, end all of moral supports, but I'm _really_ good at distracting people. I can fight. Iii can steal some ink and we can go and draw on the Scion's unconscious faces before they get to wherever they're being taken. Uhh..." The Warrior floundered for a moment, looking around the room for inspiration as the Ascian huffed out a more honest sound of amusement. 

"What did you do, when that Haurchefant boy died? How did you cope?"

"Unhealthily, I'll admit. I drank a lot, fought a lot, and put forth every spare ilm of my abilities towards hunting down the Archbishop." She frowned faintly, before squinting at him. "Were you there for that? Or did you just hear about it."

"I was otherwise occupied at the time, admittedly. So to mimic your example, what I should do is to drink an unhealthy amount-" The Ascian patted the basket of bottles. "-fight plenty and hunt down my great grandson."

"Yeeaahh, it... Sounds like a shit idea when you lay it out like that. One out of ten, do not recommend." She winced, before moving to sit down next to him, clasping her hands in her lap. "... Zenos is... Probably going to die. It's not like tempering. I can probably convince him to fight beside me instead of against me for a time, but he's the type that's going to see me as a challenge and want to throw himself against my swords as many times as it takes before there's only one of us. I _really_ hope that I can find a way. He called me his first friend."

"That's it? That's all it takes, to earn the hesitation of a killing blow, to call you a friend? My, but you _are_ soft..."

"Of course I am." She shifted slightly to nudge him with an elbow, drawing his gaze to her from where it had settled across the room. "Someone's got to be. I'm everything but magical. Which, as Thancred can tell you, _sucks_. That we have that in common is probably why we get along so well. I mean, that and the preference for rooftops to roads. I'm rambling. Is it helping?"

"Not as much as the thought of drawing things on his face is."

She offered out a solemn hand. "I'll get some ink if you get us in and out."

The corner of his lips curled upwards into a smirk, and he shook it.

* * *

"How many years did you practice how to draw? Seriously, that was the most realistic penis I've ever seen inked across anyone's forehead." She paused, before squinting out into the distance as she settled her hands on her hips. They were atop one of the bluffs that overlooked the lake Midgardsormr's corpse decorated. "Wait, now I've got _questions_ about how closely you've studied dicks to get that detailed, and I don't rightly know if I want them answered..."

Emet-Selch huffed out an amused sound, sprawled out and pillowing his head with his hands as he gazed up at the stars. "A double handful of years across the ages. I had to find _something_ to fill my time with, between plans and grand schemes. Not precisely my preferred medium, if I am to be honest."

"Let me hazard a guess. Theater? Something loosely related to the written word but also translatable into things people can make a fool of themselves doing." The Warrior wandered back and sat down next to him, stretching out her legs and following his gaze upwards.

"Well, look at that, the Warrior does indeed have the basic cognitive functions required to piece together a preference from one's air and mannerisms. I would _never_ have guessed you possessed such a high-functioning mind by simple dint of how vague and only mildly recognizable your efforts at a tiger's pattern across the blind miqo'te's face resulted in. How difficult it must be, to draw _narrow triangles_." His voice had dipped into a drawl as he grinned cheekily over at her, and she threw her hands in the air with a huff. 

"Hey! The wagon was moving! It was a bumpy road! The chocobo weren't pulling evenly in step!"

"I had thought perhaps you were going for the Garlean look, until I realized every dot you tried to place in the center of her forehead _missed_. Was that on purpose?"

"Maybe." The Warrior shiftily looked to her left and right, before easing back onto her elbows so that she could look at the stars once more. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a long moment, before she shifted and partially rolled to face him. 

"If you are about to open your mouth and spout something sad such as condolences, _spare_ me, please." Pale gold eyes shifted over to study her as she looked surprised. "'Tis a habit of yours, and I am in no mood for a hike through the emotional _mountains_ you tend to flounce through."

"I was _going_ to ask if you were hungry, asshat." Rolling onto her back, she folded her hands above her navel and gave the stars above an exasperated look. 

The Ascian scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his shoulders and made sure he was comfortable. "You were _not_."

"Fine! I wasn't. But I -was- going to try and check to make sure you actually _are_ okay. Elidibus said you were less than you were, and I don't feel like he was talking about your lack of tempering. You've been moving... Oddly, all day. Slowly. Like you're a half-second behind. It's got me worried."

Emet-Selch was silent for a moment, before he closed his eyes and opened his senses to the aetheric. There was a sullen _tightness_ to the way her soul coiled, and he eventually sighed as he let his senses finally recoil from the blinding light that she was. "... I am... _Hurt_. Wounded. My aetheric essence is an utter _mess_. 'Tis as if I risk tearing open and spilling everywhere should I do so much as turn too quickly. Whatever your friends did to save me, it did not do so without consequences."

"But you'll be fine, right? With enough time? You'll heal?" She was trying to sound conversational, but there was a cautiousness to her voice that belied her concern.

"I will." He shifted, settling his hands on his chest and weaving his fingers together. "Already the process has begun."

"Good. _Good._ I won't insult you by babying you or treating you like glass, you're _old_ enough and know your limits well enough that you'll be fine, but if you need anything just... Let me know, alright? If it's something I can handle, I'll see what I can do."

"Provided it also is not, what was the phrase, _morally repugnant_?" He felt his lips curling into a smile, and the huff from beside him only made it grow.

"Hey, those are two of the few big words I know. Don't tease me about it, it's a sensitive subject."

"For all that I rarely, if ever lie you certainly seem to more than make up for it." The Ascian propped himself up on an elbow and partially rolled, staring down at where the Warrior was trying to be the picture of innocence. "You are highly intelligent, in your own way. Among our people, even should you have lacked the creation magics that were of particular import, you would have found yourself highly sought after for the creative ways you tackle problems and produce solutions."

"I don't agree with that, but I'll meet you half way and say that I'm smart enough to know how to trick a sassy Ascian into giving me a compliment." Her smirk was victorious, and Emet-Selch paused before huffing and sitting up, folding his arms.

"Very well. You win this round, ungrateful little half-cracked thing that you are."

"Ohh, what did I win? Your boots? Are they still the going prize?" She propped herself up on her elbows, grinning at his back as he lifted his chin and pointedly looked away.

"You are just _impossible_."

* * *

"That is going to explode. You do realize this, correct?" The Ascian had materialized behind her and leaned over her shoulder as she was carefully dripping one alchemic substance into another. Calmly drawing the vial back, the Warrior (clad in thick goggles, a sturdy leather apron and thick gloves over the rest of her gear) felt her lips thin into a line even as she carefully replaced it into the rack with the others. 

"Now, as much as I'm pretty sure it _wont_, because I damn well measured everything thrice, what makes you say that?" 

"Oh, nothing. Simply testing how much faith you have in my words."

"So it isn't, then?"

"Hmm? Of course it is. The pitch you used as the base was tainted with some of the ground aether crystals. One of the soldiers passed by the pot and caught sight of them, before reaching down and taking a pinch to inspect it and inadvertently wafting some through the room."

She sat there, cursing and staring at the small beaker of unfortunately volatile liquids.

* * *

"I believe we have something." 

The Warrior throttled down on the instinctive reflex that had a throwing dagger in hand, wheezing and flopping back against the bed. 

"Whut time's it...?"

"Roughly three and a half bells past midnight." He sounded utterly smug, and she groaned and hauled one of her pillows over her head. Tisking, he ambled over to the bedside table and searched the drawer within for a moment. Finding what he was looking for, he struck a match and lit the candle. "I have, as is our custom, secured an appropriate bribe. Due to your seeming dislike of coffee, I have a particularly potent type of tea that may assist."

She grumbled at that, to which he added "And brandy, to give it flavour." which had her grudgingly sitting up and squinting at the light. 

"... Didn't hear you snap fingers. You light that witha match?"

"Admittedly. I just returned from the Crystarium, Warrior. Lest you forget, I _am_ old. Even I must take time to rest." The basket he had brought with him was set down so that he could unload it, laying out a sandwich, two cups and a curious bottle that seemed to be made of metal. A small flask was added to the cluster, and she shifted and moved until she was oriented properly and could groggily watch as he poured the surprisingly still hot tea into each cup. 

"And healing. So that's where you go after." She reached out to take the flask, opening it and blinking as he deftly snagged it and measured out a healthy dollop into each cup. "Hey. I was drinking that."

"As was I." He countered, and she could hardly argue against logic like that. Instead, she grumbled and reached to collect one of the cups, blowing across it and taking a small sip. 

"... Is that an egg salad sandwich?" She squinted, before reaching up to rub first one eye, then the other and blink once more. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

"It could be no other, though _why_ exactly you like them is beyond me." Rolling his eyes, he sat on the bed beside her and tucked the flask away, reaching for the sandwich.

"Alright, story time. Cut that bad boy in two and hand it over, because it's time for me to share some history." Half was offered to her once he had torn it asunder, and she gracefully accepted even as she hummed happily. "Alright. So. Growing up along La Noscea, there's always been a lot of birds right? Lots of birds means lots of eggs. Lots of onions in the ground too, because they grow well around here. Lots of eggs and lots of onions means lots of egg salad sandwiches. My Da and I would climb the cliffs, stealing eggs from nests. Not a lot of them, mind, and that baffled me until he explained that if we took all the eggs, not only would the birds never come back but we also would be stopping more birds from being born. Delicate balance, that."

"So disregarding the horrendous taste, you simply enjoy them because they remind you of the past?"

"Hah! I like how they taste too, though it might be an acquired one." She smiled fondly at the sandwich before taking a bite and chewing contently before pausing and squinting over at him as he stared at his hand contemplatively. Swallowing, she balanced the sandwich half on her knee and reached out to tap his wrist. "Hey now, none of that. If you're so tired that you're not snapping your fingers and lighting candles, then whatever it is you're thinking of making you can surprise me with later. So what was it that you were waking me up for?"

"The Exarch and I believe we may have formulated the proper spell to restore the souls of your companions. Small wonder he not only _missed_ when he sought you, but also made the journey agonizingly painful. The initial spell was a rough, half-cracked thing. Fitting, now that dwell upon it. 'Tis a wonder it worked at all." Glancing down at her hand, he blinked as she gripped his wrist properly. 

"You... Wait. You and G'raha can fix them?" She took a second to gulp down a mouthful of tea to clear any remaining sandwich from her palate before setting it aside and hurriedly moving the sandwich so that she could move and turn, properly facing him. "Seriously?"

"At a more proper hour - as we have some preparations to attend to on our side as well - your eloquent elezen friend with the star globe will make the attempt. He volunteered." The Ascian huffed out an amused sound as she released his wrist and threw both of her arms around him, cackling with glee.

"You did it! You and the Exarch! I _knew_ you could!" 

* * *

"Hey, weird question." 

They were laying out the final preparations to the spell that would, hopefully, return Urianger to his body. Which really meant that _Hades_ was carefully etching symbols and runes across the flat piece of marble that they had commissioned specifically for the task, and the _Warrior_ was holding the diagram he had drawn up for her so that he could reference it as needed. 

"The fate of her friend hangs in the balance, secured only by the markings made by my very hand, and she deigns to distract me with one of her _weird questions_." Pale gold eyes rolled, and the Ascian pushed himself up with less grace than he might have hoped as he brushed his hands off against the edges of his coat. 

"Hey now, it's a sort of important one. If your vessel dies, you can choose to either go and get one of the clones you mentioned, or slip into someone else right?" She was looking at him with that squint that meant she was trying to reaffirm something she felt she should have already known.

"That _is_ the basic idea." Folding his arms, Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes, trying to predict where, exactly, she might be going with this.

"Minfillia said that what she was doing was what you guys were, with the whole possession thing, so it's not as if you -have- to control the body or change it, right? You can just sort of... Ride along?" Tilting her head to the side, she tucked the diagram under her arm and held her hands out, weighing an invisible force before cupping them together. "You don't _have_ to squash the soul within the body, or hurt it, or break it or anything right?"

"'Tis an expenditure of energy, subduing the soul within the body, and entirely why I prefer the clones that have been produced for me. But yes. Provided the vessel is sturdy enough it can withstand the presence of multiple souls should it be required to. So long as they do not struggle unduly against one another, very little harm shall come of it. Why do you inquire?" 

"Because if you need to, and I mean _really_ need to, I'd be alright if I had to house you from time to time. Better me than some Jack you'd have to sit on first. Now, I'm not saying I want you walking around in my skin, but-"

"Stop." Holding up a hand, the Ascian heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he did. "Even should I wish to do so, the amount of light-based aether you hold runs counter to my own darkness. Not only would it cause us both horrible, burning pain simply on contact but it would also force a struggle as the two elements attempt to establish dominance. There is simply too much darkness within me, and too much light within you, for the elements to do otherwise. Something even the summoner boy could inform you of."

"So if you were dying and needed a temporary container, I'd be a -reeeally- bad one." She frowned, brows furrowing as she wiggled her nose. "Good to know."

"What brought this on, I wonder?" He quirked a brow before gesturing down to the symbols he had been etching. She nodded and held up the diagram once more, so that he could study it, study where he was, and then hunker back down and resume working on it. 

"When you exploded out of the vessel, I didn't have anything that might help. I still don't. So I'm exploring options, just in case." Her frown deepened, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot as he connected two lines and hummed. "Y'shtola said that it wasn't a mater of healing you, but more that you were evaporating or whatever it was because you weren't able to adjust fast enough. Like you were in shock."

"Dissipating, and I _was_ in shock. Who's fault was that, hmm?"

The Warrior sighed, toeing the floor sheepishly, sounding apologetic. "It was mine..."

"Good. Never forget that fact. Zodiark knows I certainly won't allow you to, even should you forget all else." Pushing himself back to his feet, the Ascian gestured to the completed diagram and wiggled his hands. "Tada~."

"It's done then?" She stepped around so that she could compare it to the diagram herself. "And you're sure this will work?"

"As sure as you seem to be when you go running off into danger for no apparent reason." 

"Good. No worries then." She beamed up at him, only for it to falter as he frowned. 

"I've done my part. Should the soul become distracted along the path, however..."

"... One worry. One worry, then."

* * *

Of all the things she had asked him to do, this certainly was one of the few that ran a rather close counter to the plans of the Ascians. She was right, however, in that he was the only one that could do it. He had worried that she might ask him to personally escort her friend across, but instead...

Instead she had disappeared through one of the doors and returned a few minutes later with a basket laden with bottles of beer. 

"I really hate to ask this of you, since you've done so much already, but I need you to distract Elidibus. If he's distracted, he can't mess this up and I'm full certain he intends to do something."

When he had asked how she had known (because, really, the Emissary had as much as told him that the Scions needed to go if his plans were to have any hope of succeeding, but she certainly couldn't have known that) she had simply shrugged and said it was a hunch. And so, he had taken the basket, bowed a retreat into a rift and watched as she turned around and immediately called out to Feo Ul. They put their heads together, before the fairy giggled, clapped her hands together and vanished. 

So she _had_ thought that the soul might require an escort. Curious. He almost wondered if he had accidentally let anything slip, but any conversations that led back to Elidibus were utterly disconnected from the current topic. It didn't explain why she was currently looking around, and then crouching down and drawing an unusual knife from her boot, scuffing at the etchings-

That little _Monster_. Claiming to know nothing of magic, she had found the loophole that could have potentially sent Urianger's soul careening off into the local wildlife if he lost his focus for even an instant, and was neatly severing that portion of the diagram. Whistling to herself as she brushed some of the resulting dust away, she straightend and then ambled over to the door just as it opened. Ser Aymeric had just breezed in, and they hugged before he turned and gestured to one of the mages that had followed him, and was bowing. 

He didn't need to hear what they were saying. It was clear they meant to start soon, considering two guards had just marched in with Urianger's body on a stretcher between them. It was time. 

He had a part to play, and so he turned his attentions elsewhere and sought out Elidibus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh comments!!! Thank you all for commenting, following and kudos-ing! I've got a vague idea as to where this might go, but I want to do more little snippets of just them being... Them, before I get into it.   
All the comments are making me want to write more and it's a beautiful thing, that so many people have so far!  
Ahhhhghhfhffkd JUST POSTED A CHAPTER BUT GUESS IT'S TIME TO WRITE MORE


	6. I wonder what would happen if he took her away

She _had_ to be dreaming. He would have snarked at her by now if it was real. She had a feeling she knew why, exactly, she was dreaming of _this_ but if such was the price for how Feo Ul had helped rejoin one of her friend's souls to their body... Well, regardless of the Fairy King's intentions, she wasn't about to lie and say she wasn't _lonely_. With no way to manually wake herself up, she might as well enjoy the view, so to speak.

They were back in the Crystarium, in her rooms, in the large hot tub. She was fast enough, this time, to catch his hand and pull him back from the swirl of darkness that the Ascian had been about to step through. Strong enough, to turn him around, brave enough to flick him in the forehead, to tell him that he could just _leave_ like that. That the fey folk had the right of it, immortal as they were, to live more in the moment. 

She invited him, and after a moment's contemplation, he accepted. It was a moment that she took to study him, his words echoing in her ears. 

_"Desperate to see what lies beneath it, are we?"_

She had assumed he must have had something of an athletic figure, considering they had sparred for a few hours, and you couldn't do _that _ if you were built like the typical scholar. Lean though he was, he was a healthy weight and when he shifted and stepped towards her, she could see the faint definition of muscle across his stomach. She appreciated it, both with her eyes and her fingers as she reached out to lightly trace her nails across his pale skin. 

He leaned enough that he take her by the hips and heave her up onto the ledge of the tub, tracing his thumbs across the scars that lingered there and smirking before lowering his head to hers, gently nuzzling their foreheads together and then drawing back only for her to reach up with her own hands, cup the sides of his face, and bring his lips down to her own...

_ **"Whatever are you groaning about?"** _

She would have known his voice anywhere. Which was, perhaps why she found herself disoriented and blinking as her head came off of the desk. It was dark, aside from the candle the Ascian had lit, and as she thumped her head back down and understood she was _not_, in fact, where she had expected to be she let out another groan. 

"Why'd you wake me up? Whuzza good dream..."

"It must have been, seeing as you were _drooling_. Gallivanting through fields of sandwiches, were we?" Emet-Selch waved a hand idly, utterly ignoring the faint sparkles that faded from the corner of the room as he sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms. "It matters not. You are about to miss a -very- important moment. Come."

She grumbled under her breath, but pushed herself up as he snapped his fingers at her beckoned for her to follow him into the center of the room. A brief, habitual check to make sure she had at least some weaponry (Two black blades: Check. Three throwing knives up one sleeve: Check. Flask: Check.) later and she had joined him, teetering as he snagged her by the hand and pulled her into the swirl of darkness beyond. 

They stepped out into harsh winter conditions, and she instinctively hunched and hissed even as he huffed and slipped an arm out of his coat, tugged her against his side and draped it around her frame so that they could share it even as he dragged her along. He seemed to have a destination in mind, so she tried not to do more than awkwardly glare at the offending cold around them. A few moments later had them at the edge of a cliff, and the arm he had tucked around her eased out of the coat so that he could snap his fingers. 

Around them, the weather shifted. Behind them, snow continued to fall thick and silent but before them...

A sea of vibrant stars, lit by an aurora that was just beginning to form. It threaded across the sky in streaks of green and teal, and as they watched it grew and danced. Streaks of purple began to highlight it, complimented by lighter golds and reds and blues. She glanced down and noted that it was reflected in the wind swept ice that expanded out far beyond what her eyes could see, and let a small smile curl her lips upwards. 

"I take it you find my bribe acceptable, then?"

His words caught her attention, and she blinked and glanced up at him. "Must be one hell've a thing you want to ask for, if this is the bribe. Go for it."

"How did you know to alter the circle? You claimed to know nothing of magic." Emet-Selch kept his tone and face guarded as he watched her, noting the blink and then tilting his head as she laughed. 

"You're trying to play both ends against the middle. Of course I knew you'd be up to something. You have to be, to keep the peace with Elidibus. So I asked Feo Ul for a favour, and she gave me a vision of what it should look like when I napped earlier that day. When I asked her about it, after you left, she agreed that if I just scratched across the part I did, it would close the hole you left. You were still watching then, I take it." Her grin became rueful, sheepish almost, and she looked back up at the sky. "I didn't want to say anything because I don't want to put you in any more difficult of a position than I already have, and it's not like anything bad happened. I knew from the way your diagram had that extra bit that something was up, so I pulled a few favours and had the beer delivered while you worked on the circle so that I could send you on your way."

"No harm, no foul then? Truly, 'tis so simple as that?" He quirked a brow as she snickered and nodded. 

"Yep. That's the way it is. I think you've got extra though, for this view. If you've anything else to ask, by all means. I'm partially ears."

"Very well then. What were you dreaming about?" Pale gold eyes narrowed as the Warrior sputtered, though she regained her composure quickly and paid a great deal of attention to the sky.

"Good question! Next question?"

"Now now, that goes against the spirit of the game, does it not? Whatever could it have been, that would have you so evasive?" He was intrigued now. More often than not, if she simply wasn't ready to talk about something she had the habit of asking if they could talk about it later. To fully refuse to answer only fed into his curiosity, and the Ascian partially turned so that he could stare down at her and watch her. 

"Wise man once recommended that I don't ask a question I don't really want the answer to. I extend to you the same advice." She wasn't looking at him, in fact she was looking off to her right where he wasn't, face turning red and not because of the cold. 

"Oh, but you see now I simply _must_ know." He was grinning now, and he leaned slightly so that she had to actively turn her face completely to the right to avoid looking at him. "Come now, it truly cannot be so terrible, can it?"

She struggled with herself for a moment, before deflating as she sighed and oriented herself to properly meet his gaze. If she was going to do this, she surmised, she would at least try and make it every ilm as awkward for him as it was for her. 

"Remember the hot tub? I was fast enough to stop you from leaving." He blinked at that. There was nothing- "You put me onto the edge of the tub, invading my personal space. Aaand things might have been about to go from there." -Ohhh, he began to see, and pressed his lips together in a vain effort not to burst out laughing as she continued, scowling and grumbling. "Don't get too excited, nothing happened. _Someone_ woke me up before it got that far. Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing, Hero~."

"You so are!" She irritably thwacked him in the side, and he recoiled slightly only for her to step and follow him, trying to keep within the coat. "I already said that I liked you, a long time ago! Twelve, you're such an _ass_." 

There was no bite to her words, which only had him snickering, though as she huffed and folded her arms what she said next had him standing utterly still and silent. 

"It's not fair, because it's not even what you _look_ like, either. It's how you act. The cadence with which you speak. The thousand and one little mannerisms that stack together and make up _you_. I mean, sure, you've certainly picked a not half-bad form, but it's countless other little things that have little to do with whatever meat-sack you wear. And if I say or do anything, then that comes across as me just being a pervert for a body you don't actually have any special attachment to, which makes it seem _shallow_." The Warrior hunched her shoulders, staring down at her boots and idly digging one toe into the packed snow. "Even when you were huge and four-armed, it was still _you_. Seeing you laid out like that, it was seven kinds of _wrong_ and all of them my fault. And I was worried, so _worried_ that I'd fucked up, that I'd missed and ripped out your actual heart, that you were dying and that I hadn't freed you at all. That I'd killed the one person I went to that city to save."

"... You planned that. You weren't there for the Exarch."

"I was and I wasn't. I knew that everyone would have been able to get him out without me. That's why I brought them. I made Urianger swear to me that he'd lead them in this if I cracked, and told him what I was doing. I made Thancred give me the white auracite, and guilt tripped Urianger to help me hide it from aetheric sight by waving the fact that he lied to me in his face. The only variable was distracting -you- so that I could get close enough, and I thought I'd lost my one chance at it when I toppled." 

Emet-Selch was silent for a moment as the Warrior hunkered down a bit more. Playing back the memories of what had happened, he thought of how she had dangled the knowledge of _her_ in front of him, practically slapped him with the recollection of the soul she had inherited, and handed him the knowledge of the white auracite so that he would be forced to keep an eye on the others in her group, keeping his attention divided equally among them just in case they produced the crystal in question. Distractions, meant to scatter his focus and bog him down. 

"I wasn't even sure how I'd do it, until I saw you. I really _saw_ you. Pale gold on royal amethyst. And then there, around your heart, there it was. I had a _target_. I didn't have to draw the process out trying to figure if what I was pulling into the auracite was you or the tempering based on the colour. I could just-" She reached out, hand turning and cupping nothing before scooping it towards her. "- and tag it with the auracite and siphon it off and out of you like so much poison."

"You were able to see-" He almost choked at that, and she glanced up at him before nodding and looking away. 

"I can't any more. It didn't last very long. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Enough to see that you were bleeding out everywhere. Enough to panic and reach out and try and try and bend what I could see to my will and get it to stay put. I've never done magic before, so I didn't really know what I was doing and everything I've tried since then's failed, but that's what I imagine it to be like. When I started losing the ability to see it though, you started to slip again and I couldn't hold on. Y'shtola and the twins started crystalizing what they could after that, and Thancred came along not long after with the shade of Hythlodaeus that you made. They were able to guide them better, after that, and you stabilized and suddenly had four arms and two giant flappy bits loaded with masks. And no legs."

"... Flappy bits." Emet-Selch echoed, not even bothering to disguise the incredulity in his voice.

"Huge ones, loaded with masks. And no legs. I was so _relieved_ when basically the first thing you did was sass me, because that meant that everything might be okay. If not then, later." She gestured this time, with both arms as if to emphasize the words.

The Ascian pinched the bridge of his nose, and started to laugh.

* * *

She welcomed the warmth of her rooms, stepping away from the Ascian as she shivered and scrounged around for a match so that she could start lighting candles. The Warrior barely made it to the desk before Emet-Selch caught her by the wrist and hauled her back, spinning her around so that he could wrap his arms around her and settle his chin on her shoulder. She hesitated, before reaching up to hug him back. 

"Your explanation certainly sheds light on your willingness to use me as a pillow immediately after the fact." She snorted into his shoulder at his words, though she quieted as he continued and rocked slightly from side to side. "Here I am, wondering at what ulterior motives you might possess, attempting to discern how much of your actions are driven by the echoes of a faded soul versus some mortal attachment to the temporary."

"Can the answer be yes because I don't know the difference? Motives are to try and give you some shred of joy and entertainment, by the way." She gently tried to evict herself from his grasp, only to grunt as he tightened his grip on her. "... Look I know you know bodies need air, so you gotta give me an ilm of room to breath. Your coat's got leather paneling on the outside, and I swear that the tassels are trying to go up my nose every time I breath through it."

The Ascian huffed, reluctantly relinquishing his grip on her and watching her as she turned and fumbled about for her desk once more, finally lighting a candle and using it to light the lantern that she usually hung beside the door. Blowing out the candle, she paused and blinked at him, face pinking slightly. 

"... Something on my face?"

"Hmm?" He quirked a brow, watching as she mimicked the expression and tucked a hand against her hip. 

"You're staring."

"That wise man you spoke of once mentioned something about watching, if I'm not mistaken." She went from pink to red at that, eyes darting about as a smirk curled the corner of his mouth upwards, before it faded as a thought occurred to him. "I am older than the civilization you were born into-"

"And you know what? That helps with knowing how to appreciate wines. And art, I'm told." She cut him off, ambling back to the desk to pull out the chair and sit down. "Know what else? I'm told I'm something of an old soul-" He snorted at that. "-which I'm led to believe is something you know a thing or two about. Besides, that didn't stop you from founding the Garlean empire and producing Selchletts."

"_Selchletts?_" His voice raised an octave as he sat down on the edge of the bed, more offended by the butchered use of the word than anything, folding his arms as he did. "-Please-, should I go a century without ever hearing that phrase again, I think it would be too soon."

"Yeah, you're right. I should have stuck with Emetlings." She nodded sagely, solemnly, barely managing to keep a straight face as he heaved a resigned sigh and covered his face with his hand. "What. It's a title. I'm trying to be careful about how and when I use your actual name, I've seen how it strikes through to the core of you."

"Does that bother you? That I have sired children? That I have a living line of descendants, that my reign ended within living memory?" He let his hand fall to his lap, curious as she laughed easily. 

"So long as I don't have to show up to any family gatherings, I don't rightly care. I think part of why I got on so well with the fairies of Il Mheg is because we agree on a basic principle of life." The Warrior settled an arm on the back of the chair, shifting and balancing as she leaned it onto the back legs. "Time doesn't matter like that. All that really matters is what's in reach. What's here, in front of me, right now. Not just any moment, _this_ moment. _The_ moment. I can't stop someone from getting shiv'd in an alley, the next city over, but I _can_ stop it if it happens right in front of me. I can't afford to dwell on things outside of that space, because if I do I'll worry myself to an early grave and never get anything done."

"Lends itself poorly to planing for the long term, does it not?" He shifted slightly, toe of his boot nudging one of the legs of the chair, and she shot him a warning glance as she continued to balance. 

"Let the smarter people deal with that. This way, when they start to break down with worry in front of me, they'll have planned for the future and I can help them back to their feet." He taped the leg of the chair, a slow grin making it's way across his face, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "_Don't you do it, you little shit._"

They stared at each other for a long moment, her eyes getting narrower as his grin grew. 

He did it, and promptly made for the window as she hit the ground with a thunk and a promise.

* * *

The morning was beautiful in Mor Dhona. The air was crisp, the crystals glowed a faint and pale blue as they caught the rays of the rising sun, and it was clear skies as far as the eye could see. It would have been peaceful except for the Ascian that was bolting towards one of the gates, a broken pillow in hand and leaving a trail of feathers, laughing breathlessly as the Warrior chased after him wielding a similar weapon. There were feathers in her hair and sticking out of his coat where they had gotten caught in the fur. She probably would have caught up to him, as she had just broken into a full-on sprint, save that Urianger's hand (and arm, by extension and momentum) came out of the doorway to catch her by the upper arm and drag her to a halt. 

"While 'tis good to see thou in such high spirits, it is -also- unbecoming of thy station to behave as such in public."

"All I'm hearing is 'do this somewhere people can't see and judge you'. Am I far off the mark?"

"Nay. Mine time in Il Mheg hath taught me that such cannot be stopped, only diverted." He let go of her arm before offering a polite nod to the Ascian as he trundled up, picking feathers from his coat. "There is also the matter of the pillows which Mistress Tataru undoubtedly paid for."

-That- drew a wince from the Warrior, who had the grace to look sheepish even as she fluffed the only partially deflated pillow in her hands. "Uhh... Stall her while I go out and buy new pillows real quick?"

"I shalt do my best." He offered her a slight bow, corners of his lips tugging upwards as she turned and surveyed the rest of Revenant's Toll. 

"Uhh... Before you go, Urianger-"

"The market along yonder road, I believe."

"Best ally ever! C'mon, Emet-Selch. I need the wisdom of the ages to tell what type of pillows these are so I can avoid getting killed in my sleep."

* * *

They managed to smuggle the replacement pillows in without getting caught red handed, though she was sure the lalafel either already knew they had been and was being nice by not talking about it or had at least heard of how they had burst out of the window to her rooms, swatting at each other with the pillows and was trying very hard not to dignify the fact that that had happened. 

They had ended up back on the bluffs after that, watching the lake and gently chiding each other for every swat that had landed, during which the Ascian took a moment to pick the feathers out of her hair. She promptly stole one and tried to tickle him with it, which had resulted in them wrestling around until one of them (The Warrior, sadly) took a particularly sharp rock to the kidney. She had complained, stood up, and then sent it flying it with a kick from the metal-capped boots she was fond of wearing, all the while rubbing her back and grumbling. 

Emet-Selch had come up behind her to drape his arms around her in a hug from behind as she did, tucking his face down against her neck and taking a deep breath that had made her turn red right to the tips of her ears. 

"You know, 'tis not actually a shallow thing. I spent a great deal of work on making my vessel look a very specific way. To have it appreciated stokes my ego." 

"I was sort of hoping that I was hallucinating that and hadn't actually said anything." She cleared her throat, tugging lightly at the collar of her shirt as he huffed a soft laugh into her shoulder, pale eyes looking out at the lake and taking in the corpse of the dragon wrapped around the ruined Garlean airship. 

"Regretting what you have said will not make it so." He shifted as if to pull his arms from her, but she reached up to snag his wrists and keep him in place. 

"I don't regret it. I'm just _really bad_ when it comes to this sort of thing. It... It feels _serious_, you know? This isn't a 'meet at the bar, get drunk, shag in an alley and never talk about it again' sort of thing. There's _feelings_ tied into this. And I'm really bad at feelings." She leaned back, letting him support her as he hummed thoughtfully. 

"Is this an admission that you have 'shagged in an alley', as you so eloquently put it?" His voice was right beside her ear as he let his voice drop into a purred murmur. "What an interesting way to establish a baseline of expectations."

She was red again, across the face and she could feel the way the blush prickled hotly up the back of her neck. "What can I say, bar's set pretty low, standards-wise. Not sure I can live up to your reportedly boring Garlean orgy-parties-"

He nipped at her ear, huffing out an amused sound and _Flare and Holy, she could have fried an egg on her face-_

"Cheeky little Monster, aren't you-" She turned her head, one hand shifting up to snag him by the hair and tug his face down just enough that she could press her lips to his, effectively silencing him. It wasn't much of a kiss, just a gentle press of lips on lips but as she drew slightly back she was grinning. 

"Look at that. I -can- shut you up like that."

The Warrior winked at him. Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes. 

Challenge accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how this work started as rated T, and now is rated M, and is well on it's way to being rated E.  
What was I -thinking-, presuming I wouldn't smut?  
Also, -Selchletts-.  
Kek


	7. What you see well you might not know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My internet decided to cut out and I lost the entire latter half of this chapter. So here. Have what remained. I'll fix it in the morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean I guess any time after midnight technically counts as 'morning', doesn't it?  
I had a hope while I was failing to sleep that maybe I could search my tabs history and recover it that way, but -that- didn't work, and I'd already turned on the computer, so I figured to hell with it and re-wrote as much as I could.

_Challenge accepted._

She could see the wheels turning in that great, glorious, intelligent brain of his through the pale gold eyes that stared at her, and let the grin on her face spread as his expression shifted into one of almost impish mischief. He was _tempted_, but all he did was shift one of his hands so that he could cup the side of her face and smooth his gloved thumb across her cheek, leaning in for another slow kiss. The gentle brush of lips against lips, before she nipped lightly at his lower one and he huffed, obliging her and angling his head slightly to the side so that they might-

A familiar gentle sound through the air had her expression falling flat into one of utterly unamused irritation. From the disappointed sigh that was breathed into her hair when Emet-Selch slightly lifted his head to glance at the source, he seemed to feel the same way. 

"I don't suppose it can wait, can it? I'm somewhat _busy_ at the moment, Elidibus."

"You know that isn't _her_." 

Rage bloomed through the Warrior's chest. 

"My legal wife wasn't _her_ either, now was she, and yet I still managed to appreciate her enough to produce a child." He was straightening, one hand coming up to rest on her shoulder and squeezing gently. A silent indication to wait, as his voice took on a light-hearted drawl. "If you're looking to join in, I'm afraid I'll have to decline for the moment. 'Tis something we needs must talk about, before going through with after all. Though I _doubt_ she would mind overmuch."

"I was right to worry. Whatever she did to you on the First, she didn't remove your tempering. She _replaced_ it. Your goals have changed." The Emissary's voice was laced with horrified revelation, and the Warrior felt the way Emet-Selch's grip on her shoulder tightened and traced the lines of tension as they shot through his form. He was silent for a moment, before sighing and letting go, stepping around the Warrior as she turned to follow his movement. 

"I am... _So_ very tired, of everybody thinking that there is something _wrong_ with me. All of you have so _many_ different ideas on how you believe I should behave. While 'tis true that tempering places that particular Primal above all else in the individual's mind, it does not otherwise alter nor infringe upon their mental faculties. So believe you me when I say this, Elidibus, in that I will bring all that I have to bear and more should you not cease your _senseless_ prattle about such things." The way he stood was almost casual, the slight slouch at odds with the way his words had gained an almost hiss to them at the end. "I am _fatigued_ by the long empty years. Made weary by the endless sacrifice and utterly _exhausted_ by the nigh-constant scheming. She may not be _her_, but she has worked harder in two weeks to attempt to garner a smile from me than _you_ have in two centuries. I am not _tempered_ by her. I am enamored."

"Of a half-formed, fragmented imitation and mockery of a true life? _Her_ life? When you were among the staunchest advocates for the death of the Shards to return those we have lost? No, something is horribly wrong. I will take you with me-" The white-robed Ascian shook his head, raising a hand as swirls of darkness formed around his hand and were mirrored by the ones that had begun to manifest around the Founding Father's feet.

She had always been fast, but, when properly _motivated_, could reach ridiculous speeds. The flat of one blade was tapped against Elidibus's side, as she came to a very abrupt stop and turned her head to regard him almost casually. 

"What do you want more, your arm or to _not take away the man I was trying to kiss_?" The flat of the blade tapped against his side once more as he hesitated, still watching Emet-Selch as the dark-clad Ascian smirked and waggled his eyebrows. She continued, drawing her other blade and giving it a swing before resting the curve of it over her shoulder. "Go on. I'll give you a moment to think about it."

"You know, I rather think she's particularly fond of me in return. She only ever hits that point of adrenaline-fueled, wrath-induced speed when something or someone she cherishes is threatened, after all. I may not currently have the strength to directly oppose you, but I think I need it not at this exact second." Leaning forward slightly, the Architect canted his head to the side and pursed his lips as he raised his eyebrows. "My goal is still the resurrection of our people, Elidibus. How I go about it, however, is _my_ business, as it ever has been. 'Tis sad that you think something _wrong_ with me when I choose to allow myself distraction."

The Emissary slowly lowered his arm, the swirls of darkness fading from Emet-Selch's proximity. 

"Good choice." She grinned, winking as she pivoted and started to amble her way back towards the Architect, who had folded his arms. 

"This isn't over, Emet-Selch."

"I should certainly hope not. Some Emissary _you_ would be, if you alienated me simply because you failed to recall how diplomacy worked." Turning to fall into step beside the Warrior, he lifted a hand and waved as they started to pick their way down the path that led up to the bluffs. 

"... I didn't actually temper you, did I?"

"What? No. Not only are you not a Primal, you also lack the ability to cast magic properly." The Ascian huffed out an amused sound, eyeing her as she rolled the blades in her grasp, flourishing and idly playing with them as she tried to keep herself in check. "If I was tempered, would I not have thrown myself in the path of that remarkably terrifying lalafel that manages the Scions to save you?"

"Yeah, good point, that."

"Shall we spar? I could use the practice, seeing as it appears I may need to defend myself in the near future."

"You're just saying that because I'm itching to kill."

"Well, yes, naturally. But I truly _could _use the practice."

* * *

"Somehow I prefer your rooms back in the Crystarium." The Ascian's tone was dry, and he was manually doffing the armor he had crafted for himself. Reds and blacks laced with golds, it was flexible enough that he had been able to make it in through the window but only just. "I seem to recall a particularly wonderful bath attached to them."

"We make due with what we've got." Stretching and leaning from side to side, the Warrior yawned widely and settled her hands on her hips, surveying the room and quirking a brow as he worked off yet another panel of armor. "Need a hand?"

"Two, if you wouldn't mind. 'Tis true I could simply break them down, but I _am_ attempting to conserve my energy so as to hasten the healing process. Somehow, after today I feel as though I might need it." Scowling, the Ascian pointed and directed, shedding pieces of armor rapidly now that there were two of them working on it. "_Damn_ him. Elidibus should know better. He has mourned our people as much as I have, and he has the _gall_ to imply that I no longer wish to see them restored?"

"He's tempered. Remember how much trouble I had trying to get you to listen to anything even remotely -not- Zodiark that was serious? In one ear, out the other. How many _layers_ are there to this?" She tugged at another set of clasps, releasing the paneling from along his side and setting it in the pile with the rest. 

"Three, though there is a great deal of overlap between two of them." Dressed down to the padded black fabric that served as the under armor, the Ascian sighed and tugged on the high collar. "Clothing, naturally, albeit a set best suited to be worn beneath armor. A jack of plates, which provides the bulk of the protection should the outer armor fail, and then the plate mail itself."

"And that's the jack of plates?" She gestured to the padded, long sleeved, bulky-looking black clothing that he was dressed in, earning a nod. The ties that laced down the front of it were picked at, coming undone so that he could shrug out of the tunic and strip down to the form-fitting black shirt he wore beneath it and set it aside before working on the laces of the bulky pants as well. 

"You know, I'm glad that you decided against the shoulder pauldrons, cape and hat. They looked ridiculous, and you'd get stuck in the window if you still had them." The Warrior had shifted back, perching on the edge of the bed and letting a smirk settle across her face as he hauled the pants down, revealing... Another pair of pants, still black albeit far more form fitting than the ones he wore over them. 

"They are also _incredibly_ heavy, I would have you know. What happened to my help?" Pouting, the Ascian tucked his hands on his hips while she snickered. 

"What was it you said earlier? About a wise man and watching?" She waggled her eyebrows at him, as he huffed out an amused tone and idly kicked one of the metal boots aside so that he could saunter closer to the bed. 

"_Still_ attempting to get me to _dance_ for you, hmm? I think not-"

A knock at the door stilled him as he loomed over her, arms stretched out as if he might pounce on her, and he let them drop as he pouted. The Warrior patted him on the shoulder before easing around him and moving to answer it. 

"Y'shtola? I didn't know you were back already-"

"If you _ever_ draw on my face again Hero, I will make it my sole duty in this life to make your own as miserable as possible. Be thankful that Urianger plead your case and convinced me to avoid mentioning the incident to Thancred."

Emet-Selch stepped as quietly and carefully as he could to the side so that he was out of line of sight of the doorway, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"As for -you-, Ascian, I am well aware of the level of skill our Hero possesses in the fine arts. You should be _doubly_ thankful, and understand that you owe Urianger much."

Clearing his throat, he solemnly nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, lips curling into a smirk. "Of course, I will be sure to express my thanks accordingly." 

She huffed, spinning on her heel and stalking away as the Warrior gingerly closed the door and glanced back at him. 

"... Think she could see you through the walls? She _is_ technically blind, otherwise."

"I had forgotten about that." Emet-Selch admitted, before turning and digging a towel out of her dresser and tossing it over. "Enough of this, you _stink_ and I would much rather be clean when I get dressed than stand around marinating in my own sweat."

She caught the towel, and winked.

* * *

"So what was the deal with the beard?"

The hot springs had a wall that ran down the very middle, dividing it into the men's bath and the women's bath, much to the Ascian's displeasure, and there was a soft 'thump' from the other side of it as he presumably let his head rest back against it.

"You would _not_ believe how horribly that itched when I began to grow that. It looked impressive over the armor, however."

"I mean yeah, that's not quite Ramuh proportions but all artistic depictions have that thing down to your waist." Her eyes trailed to the one other person in her half of the bath, and she canted her head to the side. "Sit tight, I'll be back in a moment."

The inquisitive hum from the other side of the wooden wall was left behind as she sloshed her way over to the female guard and tucked her hands on her hips. "Look, Lady, you've been soaking for longer than I've been in here, which is more than an hour. I think it's time for you to get going."

She looked stubborn, wrapping her arms around herself as she squared her jaw. "I-"

"Unless, of course, you're curious as to how hung the founding father of the Garlean Empire is." The Warrior leaned forward, holding a hand beside her mouth even as she continued in a stage whisper. "You see, every time I even think of doing anything with him, something comes up and I can't, so I'm just about ready to start not caring about anyone seeing, you get me?"

The guard's face flushed red, and she surged out of the water, splattering her way across the short expanse before she was in the change room. The Warrior settled her hands on her hips, grinning before almost leaping out of her skin as familiar arms wrapped around her from behind, a wet, naked chest pressing against her wet, naked back. She wheezed, hand groping thin air against her thigh where she kept a throwing knife sheathed when she had clothes on.

"Hades, I'm going to have to put a damned bell on you, aren't I."

"Did you mean it?" There was an eagerness to his voice, a barely-suppressed amusement and excitement as he pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

"The Grand Architect like being watched, does he?" She shifted back, brushing against him and the erection he had trapped between them, drawing a low hiss from him as he nipped at her throat. "I did. Mean it, that is. I won't lie and say it hasn't been a while, but I'm pretty sure you didn't hop into a clone and immediately find someone to bump uglies with either."

She could practically feel the way he rolled his eyes, and she took advantage of the distraction to tug at his arms. Almost reluctantly, he let her go so that she could turn around and reach up and thread her fingers through his damp hair. A light tug had him leaning back down so that she could kiss him, slowly, gently, lightly nibbling at his bottom lip.

"... I'm lucky you slouch naturally. For being a fulm and a bit taller than me, it makes it easier." She grinned up at him, and he huffed in amusement even as he slid one hand between them, tracing it along the scars that lined her ribs. One particularly long one had cut across one of her breasts and ran diagonally almost to her hip bone, and when he followed it north her breath caught. He echoed the noise a moment later as she palmed him, free hand settling onto his chest to push him back until they had found a wall.

He grinned at her, free hand curling into her hair and tilting her head up so that he could devour her mouth with his own. Emboldened, she wrapped her fingers properly about his length and pumped him in smooth, full strokes, pulling a groan from him. He caught one of her nipples between his fingers, pinching and pulling lightly as she gasped and chuckled richly when he stepped and spun them both to put her back to the wall instead.

Tracing the scar south this time, he smoothed his hand through the tangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, smirking as she hitched a leg up and wrapped it around his waist and giving him leave to run himself back and forth across her soaked folds, drawing a low groan from the Warrior as she bit her bottom lip and her eyes partially closed. 

"... Bet you you lose it before I do."

"Bet you I _don't_." He retorted, smirking even as he concentrated. 

"Stakes are that if I lose, you'll have me on my knees with my lips wrapped around your cock. But if I win... Well, I'll finally be able to put that mouth of yours to good use."

"I look forward to enjoying the view." The Ascian looped his arms beneath her, lifting her so that he could get a better angle even as she hooked her other leg around his waist and locked her ankles together. Lining himself up, he started to ease himself into her slick heat. 

"Slowly," she cautioned, hands coming up so that one could thread her fingers through his hair and the other could tuck against his shoulder blade, and he hummed a quiet sound of agreement as he rocked slowly against her and drew himself out to the tip before repeating the process just as slowly as the first time. It still only took him a moment to hilt himself within her, smothering a groan into the crook of her neck as he stilled and basked in the sensation of the snug fit he experienced. 

The light rake of nails down his back prompted him to move after a moment, and he rather smugly thought he had their new wager in the bag as she moaned and shifted, rocking her hips in time with his. A tug on his hair and he was moving faster, pressing her back against the wall with every full thrust and sighing contently as she trailed kisses up his chest and throat to the underside of his jaw. 

Less certain was he, when she anchored herself with the strength of arm that defeated primals by wrapping said arm around his shoulders. Having gained that extra inch to nip at his earlobe and then moan into his ear, torso undulating to meet each of his thrusts, she nipped lightly at the skin below his ear and practically breathed his name. 

He would have been worried that he might drop her, considering he had to shift one of his hands to brace better against the wall save for how she had anchored herself and the pleased way her breath hitched. He internally cursed at how he had almost come undone with a single phrase, jerking against her until he had caught himself and could resume at something of a faster pace.

_"My Hades, look at me."_

How could he not? Pale gold eyes snapped open meeting eyes the palest sky blue as the hand in his hair guided his head down and let her almost tenderly nuzzle against him. Lips curled into an impish grin crashed against his a heartbeat later, stealing his moan as she ever so intentionally _flexed_ around him, and he sucked in a breath as she tucked her head to the side and sucked on a tender spot of skin behind the joint of his jaw and then dragged her tongue up the shell of his ear. 

_"Fffuck, Hades~"_

-And then he was undone, swearing under his breath and burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

A polite throat was cleared in the men's half of the hotsprings. 

The Ascian huffed and snapped his fingers, wobbling a rift about them and sending them elsewhere.

* * *

Urianger was red straight to the tips of his ears. 

Emet-Selch had _known_ he was there, had winked bawdily at him before turning and vanishing into a rift only to presumably appear on the other side of the partition, if the particularly unsubtle conversation was anything to go by. What was worse, was that he was paralyzed by his own mortification as he stared at his reflection and, thusly, through it to the dilemma of his own situation. 

A wager was made, and he thought desperately that he should move, he should _leave_, he should do anything but remain there, aching in the water...

During his internal debate, his sharp ears caught the faint sounds of movement from within the men's change room. As quietly as he could, the elezen pulled himself out of the water and wrapped his towel around his waist, holding it with one hand and catching the sliding door with the other as it barely passed the second ilm mark. Thancred blinked at him, before frowning and opening his mouth. 

"Uri-"

The astrologian's hand left the door to snap over the gunblades mouth, just as an all too familiar voice moaned out from the hotsprings. 

_"Fffuck, Hades~..."_

Thancred's expression went from uncomprehending, to incredulity and then through disgust to concern as another head of white hair popped up behind him, trying to see what the hold up was. 

"Thancr-?"

The midlander turned, snagged Alphinaud by the shoulder and dragged him away, refusing to answer any questions even as Urianger sighed and rested against the door frame, peering down at himself and his shame. 

The sounds from the women's half of the hotspring trailed off into almost furious, muffled cursing, and he politely cleared his throat. 

A moment of silence answered, him, and then-

A huffed sigh. The snap of fingers. 

He didn't need to stretch out his aetheric senses to make sure they were gone, but he did anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urianger is the -real- hero.  
It's a good thing he swore to help the WoL as penance for lying to her and almost letting the Exarch die.


	8. Ascian Dong Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One beta, we die giggling  
(Urianger is -hell- to write for)

"What happened to consmmh~" he silenced her with a kiss, both of them stretched out on her bed and still wet from the hot springs. He deftly carded his fingers through her hair, still intimately connected to her and took a moment to study his partner. Not with his eyes, no, those he closed as he laid his head back, arms coming around to cradle her against his chest where she still laid, legs straddling his waist, but with his other senses...

"Shut _up_ and let me bask in this for a moment, you horrible little Monster."

She snickered, snuggling against his chest before reaching to draw the sheet over them both. He found the motion quaint, before realizing that she was probably getting cold with her back exposed to the air the way she was. There, in the palest shade of the bluest blue he had ever seen, clamped tight around the light, there was the faintest tremor. _What did it mean?_ He had spent so very long looking away from her essence, trying to watch the vessel instead and only noting it in glimpses and glances...

"Is something wro-?" She reached up to press a finger against his lips, following it with a kiss on his cheek as she shifted off of him and settled next to him, drawing a quiet hiss from him as the more tender parts of him were introduced to the blanket. 

"No. I'm just privately laughing because I won our wager. I think I'll cash in on it later though. I'm having _ideas_." 

"Is that how you win your fights with primals? Finding a singular weakness and exploiting it? Perhaps I should utilize this strategy more often..." The Ascian huffed, rolling his eyes, though his tone lilted into an impressed sort of amusement. The tremor was still there, though, and he watched it with an increasingly bitter feeling. _Her_ soul had used to shift like that, but only... 

What was she so sad about that she would squash it down so firmly, yet still feel it he wondered? Why would she _lie_ about-

"Why do I get the sneaking suspicion you're worried about something? No, y'know what, don't answer that." She was tucked against his side, humming contently. "Congratulations, Emet-Selch. You've been promoted to _pillow_ again. You gunna be here when I wake up?"

"Naturally." Tearing his senses from the aetheric, he lolled his head to blink at her peaceful face as she hummed contently and rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closing. "I hardly have anywhere else to be, after all."

But she couldn't hear him. She was already asleep. 

* * *

At the first knock on the door, she jerked against his side and drew him out of the contemplation he had let himself settle into. _Listening_ filled the air, and at the second knock she had relaxed back against him and was muttering some not very nice things. 

"'S 'shtoolia." 

"How do you know that?" He quirked a brow at where she was burrowing against his side as best she could, before the miqo'te harpy's voice came through the door. 

"I know you're in there! This behavior must _stop_! Twelve, you're almost as bad as you were when I found you!"

"Nu'bud's home! Fuggoff!" 

"I can -SEE- you both in there!"

The Warrior grumbled at that, and she reluctantly peeled herself off of his side, though she didn't get very far. Sitting up, he caught her by the shoulder and shook his head, easing her back down as he went to answer the door instead. Time for a simple test to see whether or not she actually _was_ blind. Behind him, a breath was sucked in before she snickered and tried to stifle the sound. 

Unlocking and opening the door, he threw it wide and tucked a hand on his hip as he stared down Y'shtola, who looked through him unflinchingly. Urianger, who had been making his way up the hallway with a hand outstretched as if to snag the sorceress halted as if struck by a physical force and instead turned around, barring the path as Alisaie came up behind him. 

"What's all the commotion about-?"

"Nae, 'tis but a small misunderstanding. Pray, I bid thee to return to thy rooms."

"I _highly_ doubt this is a conversation to have in the hallway." Standing aside and failing to keep the amusement from his lilting words, the Ascian swung an arm to indicate that the miqo'te was welcome to enter. She huffed, before doing so, and he shot the tall elezen a wink as he glanced back and turned red. 

Ahh, so he _had_ stayed for the Architect's little thank you performance. Wonderful~.

Closing the door, the naked Ascian swayed through the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the coat he had dumped on the floor before their sparring match over his lap. Drawing the Warrior partially out of the ball she had curled up in under the blanket so that he could pillow her head on his lap and start idly running his fingers through her hair, he periodically glanced at Y'shtola to gauge her expression and was pleased to note that she really _did_ seem to be blind. 

"A public place! The PUBLIC baths! Not only did you kick one of the guards out so that you could engage in-in-"

"Sex?" The somewhat muffled word came from the Warrior, and the Ascian perked up, trying to sound helpful as he picked a word after she had voiced hers. 

"Coitus?"

"Fornication?" The rogue using his lap as a pillow grinned at the entirely unamused miqo'te, and Hades couldn't help but rapid fire off another alternate, lifting a hand and pointing towards the ceiling to make it a declaration.

"Intimacy!"

She glanced up at him, squinting. "Are we trying to tease her or are we actually calling it like it is? 'Cause if it's that last one then overdue tenderness is the one I'd go with."

"Tease her? Why, whatever must you think of me that you would suggest that I would do such a thing! I was simply attempting to offer my assistance as she seemed temporarily unable to think of an appropriate word." He grinned cheekily down at her, and she snickered. 

"Stop! Both of you are-Are _entirely_ unrepentant, aren't you!" Y'shtola's ears went flat, and she bared her teeth in frustration.

"And naked." The Warrior offered helpfully, and the sorceress went red to the roots of her white hair. 

"My little _monster_, how could you?" The Ascian tisked, flicking her nose and shaking his head as he chided the rogue that had shifted and squirmed to partially draped across his lap, running his hands obligingly along her back. "The entire point of this recent exercise was to test her sensitivity to aetheric silhouettes and you've _ruined_ it."

Y'shtola stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her and they both devolved into peals of laughter.

"She-she does have a point, though. If we try that again, best to do it after hours like any good sneak or at _least_ a bit more subtly." The Warrior closed her eyes, grinning widely as his hands dipped into the puncture scars that lined her back, before following the raised lines that connected them. 

"Very well. Do you intend to seek your slumber once more?"

"If you don't mind. Head feels like that was about an hour or so." She stretched under his fingers as he resumed massaging the muscles along her back, and he noted how some of the scars stretched and pulled oddly. They must have been more recent additions, like the one across her chest...

"Less than, unfortunately. Perhaps twenty minutes. Fret not, I shall be here." 

She mumbled barely at the edge of his hearing that went through him to his very core, and he watched her silently for a long moment afterwards as a result. 

_"Thanks, Hades..."_

* * *

It was odd, the way Emet-Selch had found himself sitting at a table in the cafe portion of the Rising Stones. Clad in his usual garb, he idly sipped his tea even as the elezen across from him watched him stoically. Urianger had remained silent and politely marked his spot in his book before closing it and setting it down, his own tea largely untouched. 

It had started when he had walked through the room, caught sight of the lone astrologian and then then ambled over to claim the chair opposite as his own. It seemed he had been expected, considering a second cup had stood empty by the teapot, and so had obligingly served himself. They wouldn't _dare_ to poison him, not when it was both pointless and would only garner their precious Hero's ire.

Silence had settled thick between them, broken only by the way the Ascian quietly sipped his tea, and when he opened his senses to the aetheric he quirked a brow as he realized that the elezen had been studying his essence likely the whole time. That poor, faded, washed out soul, layered in guarded contemplation. It matched the expression on his face rather well, he had to admit. 

Blinding light zipped past them, making for the door, and he instinctively flinched back from it even as he couldn't help but track the movement. Urianger's lips curled into a slight smile, before he picked up his book and found his marked place, resuming his idle study of the tome. There was understanding mixed with amusement and relief coiling through the astrologian now, and Emet-Selch finished his tea with a sigh.

"The next time you invite me for a private conversation to test my intentions, at least engineer a way to have it be less _boring_." 

Turning, the Ascian made for the door, ignoring the mild, conversational hum behind him. Stepping out, he cast his senses out to discern where in Revenant's Toll, only to stop dead in his tracks. The blinding, towering pillar of contained light was curiously absent from the area, and as he stretched out his senses to cover the malms immediately outside of the small town he felt the bottom of his stomach drop as he failed to find her.

She was gone. 

Turning and striding right back into the building, he pushed through the doors with enough force to slam them against the walls as he stalked towards the table where Urianger sat, finishing his tea. 

_"Where is she."_

"She left this for thine eyes and thine eyes only, but professed that thou needs not worry." The bookmark - an envelope, now that he was paying attention to it, was offered out, so he snatched it and turned it over in his hands. The envelope itself was the letter, so he eased the (hastily placed, he surmised, just from the look of it) wax seal open and unfolded it. 

_E-S, A, H,_

_Gone to talk to our friend the rock, _

_Please don't follow, I'm also present shopping_

_Try to play nice while I'm gone_

_Will be back by sun down -if- world manages not to try to end by then_

_If can't, will send King_

_(play nice with King)_

_Yours, always,_

She hadn't signed it with a name, instead having sketched a rough penis where her signature would have gone and he huffed a soft laugh as he slowly relaxed. 

"She did bid me to thusly draw up a list of things thou might find constructive to do in thy spare time. As I have been... Nominated by the others to act as thine liaison should thou find thyself hopelessly bored, seek me out. 'Tis mine intent to remain here for some few bells before retreating to the library for a period of study." Urianger turned a page of his book, fighting the urge to glance over at the Ascian as he practically threw himself in the chair opposite. 

"Why _you__?__"_

"Young Alphinaud would naturally have been the first choice, however given the delicate subject of age-sensitive material thou seems determined to shamelessly air out t'was clear someone beyond the age of adulthood needs must be thy handler in the absence of our common ally. Thouh hast systematically damaged thy reputation with Thancred and Y'shtola, and Mistress Tataru hath other duties to attend to and cannot be spared to wrangle mischevious Ascians." Pale gold eyes flit up to meet pale gold, and the Elezen quirked a brow. "There is also the matter of my familiarity with the faeries of Il Mehg. There is little thou can do, I feel, that may ruffle my composure."

"Is that a _challenge__?"_ Emet-Selch leaned forward on his elbows, letting a smirk curl part of his mouth upwards, and both of his eyebrows raised as the astrologian marked his page and snapped his book shut. 

"'Tis a _fact._" 

* * *

The Warrior didn't quite know what to expect when she got back. Probably the bar to be on fire, but no. He wouldn't be _destructively obvious_ like that. Still, the way everything seemed _normal_ was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She had expected Emet-Selch to throw a fit when she slipped away from him, considering he had been following her around almost constantly ever since she had returned from the First. He had become a constant, and as much as she didn't mind it she was worried about how he might react if she simply vanished for a day. 

But, if she had told him in advance, he would have followed. And that would have ruined the surprise entirely. 

Still, he had the general temperament of a couerl, so she had fully expected him to have if not literally turn the place upside down in a fit of disgruntlement at least harass Urianger. Twelve bless the patient elezen, he had agreed to her proposal with nothing more than a sigh and asked only that she promise to bring back some of his things from his house. When she had tried to tell him she had long since forgiven him and hoped he wasn't doing it our of some sort of martyr-shaped penance, he had simply pressed a finger to her lips and pointed out that of everyone there, he was uniquely suited to weathering the onslaught of people with nothing better to do than to get a rise out of him.

"Eight years did I thus stay in Il Mheg. One day shall not break me."

She hoped he was right, because she was getting a little weirded out by how normal everything seemed. She left the bundle of letters from the various factions of the First on the counter for Tataru to hand out to the people they were meant for, adjusting her grip on the pack she carried even as she ambled about the rest of the Rising Stones. 

If she was Urianger, where would she try and anchor a ball of chaotic malcontent?

She thought back to how his house had been filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves and ahh'd quietly to herself. 

Right. The _library_.

Her hunch was correct, though she hadn't expected to see the Ascian lounging in a chair, dictating as Urianger furiously wrote and jotted down notes like a man possessed. There was a small army of library assistants that were searching through books, comparing them and then bringing them up, and the entire room had an air of utter delight.

Emet-Selch perked up, waving at her with one hand as the other cradled a cup of what was presumably tea.

"-And so ends our little study session on the Fourth Umbral Calamity. Well now, look who deigns to grace us with her presence, at long last."

"Hey now, I've still got another ten minutes before the sun sets. Urianger, I've brought what you asked for." Shrugging the pack from her shoulder, she offered it out to the stretching elezen, who accepted it with a nod and cracked his fingers quietly. 

"You have my thanks, my friend."

"So what's all this then?" The Warrior gestured to the assistants that were starting to tidy up and haul away the countless books that were spread out over every available surface. "History lessons?"

"We went hunting for the information on hand regarding the Allagan Empire, to see what, exactly, your little historians had actually written down. Some of it was hilariously off the mark, if I do say so myself." The Ascian finished his drink and leaned to settle the empty teacup on the table as the astrologian sprinkled sand across the fresh ink to dry it faster, tipping it and gently shaking it to free any excess from it before he shuffled it onto the stack of parchment beside him.

"You mean to tell me that the entire day I've been gone, you _behaved__? _No shaving anyone's eyebrows, swapping sugar for salt, nothing?"

"'Tis true, I enjoy playing our little games, but I did have to run an empire you know." He huffed, before pushing himself to his feet and stretching languidly. "I _can_ be serious when the need arises."

"Good." Y'shtola pushed her way through the door, folding her arms as both Scions and Ascian looked to her. "Because we have a problem."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of days off. It's been fun, but any chapters are definitely going to be slower after today.

They were gathered in the meeting room, all stoic faced and serious. He was reminded of how they had looked when they had thought Y'shtola dead, and folded his arms even as he followed the conversation. 

"We simply don't know where they're producing Black Rose at. For every factory our allies have crushed, it still keeps showing up in the Garlean's hands. The worst part is that we still have yet to find a way to neutralize it. And now, we have reports that they have gathered a large shipment and make for our borders."

"I'm guessing something's stopping our allies from trashing it the way they've managed all of the others." The Warrior leaned forward, inspecting the map on the desk and idly tracing a finger across Ala Mhigo and tapping it a few times. 

"Zenos is personally escorting this one, it seems."

The Warrior nodded, before rolling her shoulder. There was a thick scarred puncture mark underneath it, he knew, and he frowned faintly as she looked over to take in the rest of them. 

"He's going to hold it's release hostage to get me to fight him. He won't care about his own forces either. Do we know yet how he survived cutting his own throat?"

"Elidibus is to thank for that." Emet-Selch canted his head to the side as all eyes in the room settled on him. "The Emissary possessed his body, seeking to use it thus to strike you down. He has since been evicted by it's original inhabitant, though he works closely with the boy."

She nodded, accepting the information at face value before looking to Alphinaud and Alisaie. "You two are a squad. You're out with me. Y'shtola, Urianger, you're on defense. Try and split their forces, pull them as far away from the center as possible. If the Black Rose gets released, we need to minimize the contact people are going to have with the area as best we can. Thancred, I've got something special for you."

The gunblade grunted, unfolding his arms and nodding. 

"Meet up with our allies. Do what you can to draw away the enemy vanguard. Out of everyone here, excluding Emet-Selch and myself you're the sneakiest bastard we've got. If anyone can get through the lines to them, it's you."

"And what of myself?" The Ascian quirked a brow, unfolding his arms to settle a hand on his chest as the room went silent. "Am I to remain behind then, untrusted? Have I not proven myself?"

"Nah, I just have absolutely no idea what you might be the most comfortable doing." She flashed him a grin, and leaned a hip against the table. "Before I ask though, I need to know. _Can_ you set aside personal feelings on the field of battle? If I tell you to run your ass, will you go?"

_If I'm about to die, will you save yourself?_

She didn't say it, but the words lingered in the air as he scoffed. 

"Zodiark's Mercy, I _just_ got you back. Whatever makes you think I would let you go _now_?"

"Fighting in this isn't going to be a problem? What about Elidibus?" Alphinaud held up his hands as the Ascian shot him a withering glare. "I only ask because we expect some form of Ascian resistance on a regular basis. While we understand that you have chosen to fight for our side, conflict with anyone who was formerly a close ally is a difficult thing to endure."

"Yeah. And also, no matter what you think might be the best course of action, when I say to do something it _needs_ to get done." The Warrior had shifted away from the desk and crossed the distance, drawing his attention as she came to stand before him. "It's a gut instinct thing, and if something I've set up and come to expect doesn't happen I'm going to be off balance. Yeah, compensating happens on a field of battle, and yeah, first casualty's always the plan, but there's only so much that can be done in the space of a few seconds."

"I have led armies-"

"Exactly. You've _led_ them. How many have you followed?" She tucked her hands on her hips, tone gently chiding. "Trust me, I have a hell of a time following the orders of someone else. I'm not expecting you to be any different, which is why I'm asking if you're coming with me or if you're going to do your own thing."

Emet-Selch studied her for a long moment, thoughtful before he dipped into a low and formal bow.

"My blade, my magic, my essence and my heart are _yours_, my little Monster. Do _try_ not to get me killed."

"Then it's settled.What's our timeline for their arrival?"

"Two weeks." Y'shtola frowned. "If you take Thancred and travel by Yol, you should make it there with time to spare."

"Well, let's see if my Yol will fit three then." The Warrior grinned, offering the Ascian her hand and pulling him to his feet. "Ever travel by Yol? It's a hell've a thing."

* * *

They did fit, with a little finagling. Each of them took a turn on the beast's back while the others were carried clutched in it's (hers, the Warrior insisted) claws. Certainly not the most comfortable way to travel, but he bore it with better grace than Thancred, and his armor was comfortable and padded enough that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. 

Still, he missed the coat. As it was currently being worn by his Warrior over her regular clothing and gear (he would never quite tire of seeing her in the padded black leather coat she favoured with the sleeves rolled up, and when asked she had admitted that there was a reason for each of the pieces of ger she wore even as she promised to tell him about it later) at least he knew it was coming with them on their little journey. He spent his time atop the beast's back focusing on his newest mask. 

It wasn't terribly complex. Really, it was his Ascian mask that he wore under his hood with a few plated bits reminiscent to his spinning crown that secured it against his head and face. Going into battle as he was, he felt almost naked without the reassuring weight across the bridge of his nose, armor be damned. It would also serve to protect his head somewhat if he stepped too close to an explosion. 

With nothing else to while away the long hours, he resigned himself to boredom before he caught her voice from where she dangled in the claws. 

"For all the ilms and yalms and malms, I'd ne'er thought I'd see~!"As pretty a sight in all the world as you seem to be to mee~..."

Was she _singing__?_ He leaned slightly, careful not to disturb the bird's balance as he caught sight of her with one arm and both legs wrapped about the beast's ankle and calf, the other hand having fished out a flask that she was carefully drinking from before she grinned widely. His coat billowed out behind her, too long sleeves catching the wind as she leaned to offer the flask out to Thancred.

He took it, the smug bastard, sharing her grin as he picked up where she left off. 

"For all the dirt and dust and grime, the shit-pens and the gutters~, any fool that goes without must absolute-be nutters!"

Taking a quick drink and re-capping the flask, he carefully leaned out to hand it back and they both picked up the tune together.

"For here you are my friend, my hope, in all your liquid glee~, I thank you now for all you do, stripping my woe from me~!" 

"It's been a ride, my liquid love, as anyone can see!" She threw out her arm, grip sure on the flask even as she threw her head back and laughed, still going. "From here to there, with cotton square! What a feeling, to be free!" 

"We hoist the sail and keep a pail, for whoever knows the depths!" Thancred was laughing now, between words as he joined her on what the Ascian presumed was the chorus. "We sail and sing and weave and wail, and pray you spare our deaths!"

"For we are the saaailors, the fliers and the taiiilors! We stitch and sew and all with you, our liquid love and brew!"

Emet-Selch didn't know whether he should be mystified or curious, and settled for both as he tried to memorize the song he was now fairly certain they were making up as they went.

* * *

They touched down just outside of the Garlean border so that Thancred could head out on his own and find whatever contacts he had forged. Without having to worry anymore about weight distribution (having one person in the claws constantly would have made the beast continuously try and pull the other way after all) they both clambered up onto the back of the Yol as it's (_her_, the Warrior insisted) wings beat to send them skyward once more.

"Do you and he always sing on long journeys such as these?" He didn't have to shout to make himself heard, arms wrapped around her from behind as she leaned back against him. It let him tuck his face against the side of her head. The mask protected his eyes well from the wind and her hair, something he was thankful for considering the other two had thought to bring goggles but forgotten to offer him a pair. 

"Considering neither of us can teleport? Yes. I helped him find a good Racer so that he can get around on his own by way of chocobo." She tensed in his arms, and he glanced around as if expecting her to have picked up on potential enemy, stretching his aetheric senses out and finding... Nothing. "Shit! Shit shit shit!"

"Whatever could bother you now, my little Monster?" 

"The Manderville Gold Saucer! I don't know if you've ever gone, but I think you'd love it there. I'm pretty good at Air Force One! Remind me to take you there sometime!" She turned her head slightly, beaming at him, and he quirked a brow. 

"I've passed through, but admittedly I have neglected to spend too much time there myself."

"After the current crisis then! Twelve, I'm such an idiot! We had three whole days we could have buggered off for! Though, I mean Y'shtola's face was -worth- it!"

He laughed at that, and couldn't help but agree.

* * *

The Yol banked slightly to the left as they approached the Alliance camp, and she raised her arms and waved rapidly. They continued to circle until one of the thaumaturges on watch sent up a flare, to which she coaxed the beast down and bid it (_her, for the last time_ she proclaimed in exasperation) to land. The gathered leaders and ranked staff members met her with hugs and smiles as she passed herself between them, even going so far as to pick up the lalafel lad and spin him around. 

"Twelve, it's been an age it feels like! You've no idea how good it is to see you all alive!" 

"We knew you'd be back. For better or worse, we need you here. Which reminds me, when Estinian rescued you he neglected to recover this." The lalafel lad made his way to the table where a black, almost featureless mask lay. A single blue gem sat in the center of the forehead, but other than that it was simply two eyes in a rough plaque of wood. "We meant to send it to you, but even with the Garlean forces having retreated that day there was still so much to do.

"Pipin, bless your heart. It felt wrong to just replace it. I knew it had to be out here somewhere." She strode forward, picking up the mask and hefting it a few times. "Oh hey, you fixed the strap!"

"We've heard that your, uhh... Friend, intends to help in the coming war efforts." Lyse, he recognised that one, the hyur girl clad in flowing reds and whites and politely clasping her hands before her as she sized him up. He ignored her for the moment, taking in the details of the mask as the Warrior pulled off her goggles and slipped the mask over her face, twisting it at an angle so that it perched on the side of her head. "Are you sure that this is a good idea?"

"I've got good instincts about this one. Remember how I felt about Ivy? This is like that, but inside out. A certain unshakable certainty. Trust him or don't, but I'm full convinced that if I jumped off a building, he'd be sick and then try and find me to see if I'd landed right or not. Trust me, I've tested it." She turned to the others, before clapping her hands together. "Alright. Work time. Everyone here's been appraised of the situation, right? Someone give me a recap to prove it."

"Black rose is being escorted by Zenos. He's about eight days out from our outpost. And walking."

"What _is_ it with Garlean royalty and their need to practice a menacing walk? How do they ever get anywhere on time?" The Warrior pursed her lips, looking exasperated even as the Ascian folded his arms with the faint click and scrape of metal against metal. 

"When you are the reason the world moves, it waits for your every step my little Monster. Besides, as Gaius can undoubtedly attest, the armor tends to have it's own weight and gravitas to it."

"The march of the inevitable. Hmm." She waggled her eyebrows, shooting him a quick grin before looking at the others assembled. "All that aside, it affords us an advantage. We don't walk around here, we run. Give me a map with the current lay of the land. If there's a big hole anywhere in his path, that's where I want to stop him. By all accounts, Black Rose is heavy enough that it sinks, so in the event that it gets out we'll have a nice little avoidable lake of it as it slowly poisons the land. Next topic. Kan-E."

The Elder Seedeer shifted her attention from the Ascian, and inclined her head slightly to show she was paying attention.

"On the First, they're having some trouble with light-based aether stilling everything. Tataru should have been able to send those letters and documents here the day the Scions deployed, have you gotten them yet?" The Warrior reached up to rub at her face, wiggling her nose as she commanded the room.

"We have, yes. While we have theorized a few methods to slow it down based off of the research you sent to us, only practice will prove if it will work or not." 

"Better than having nothing. I'm glad you worked fast, Zenos hasn't given us much time."

"Here,a topographical map." Pipin handed it over, returning from wherever he had presumably gone to so that he could retrieve it. She nodded and unrolled it, giving it a critical eye. 

"Thanks. That's a lake, and there's a town downriver so that's out..." 

Emet-Selch stalked forward, leaning to inspect the map as well before glancing down at the lalafel that stared defiantly up at him. "Can you point out where my great-grandson is presumed to be?"

Pipin didn't move for a moment, before swinging a hand out to smack the map that the Warrior had obligingly leaned and offered.

"Thank you _ever_ so kindly~." Pressing his lips together in a mirthless smile, he hummed as the rogue's elbow thumped lightly against his side.

"Got an idea?"

"They will go through the bluffs, there." He pointed, tapping the map lightly. "'Tis naught but empty scrubland home to some few small ruins. Unless civilization has decided to return there in the last three decades, should you fail to find a hollow you prefer I feel it may be vacant and wide enough that even should their Black Rose be released it would harm only those unfortunate enough to be there for the initial release."

"It -is- on the way..." She frowned, before wiggling her nose. "He wouldn't go around them?"

"-Please-, you _have_ met the man, have you not? For all that he walks towards you, he is an impatient, petty thing in his lust for this conflict. You have seen Garlean roads? They will ramp to the top of the first bluff and bridge across the rest. 'Tis standard practice to ensure we have secured the terrain, bending it to our very will in the event that we require a strategic retreat. They have the magitek to do so."

"A fair point. Anyone have any other ideas?" 

"There's a ravine not far from there, though it does open up along the banks of the river." Lyse reached out to tap the map, tracing a dark line down to where it met blue and then continued across. She glanced at the Ascian, frowning and straightened. "Can't you just-?" 

"-Snap my fingers and cause all of your problems to simply go away? While I full intend to attempt to do so to the Black Rose should it be released, I am hardly the only Ascian with this power. Lest your wish be to see two old men snapping their fingers rapidly, in tandem, slowly warping the terrain 'tis best that I refrain and do so only if I must."

"That reminds me, how are we for white auracite? Any luck reproducing it?" The Warrior laid the map out on the table, looking towards Pipin who sighed and slumped. 

"Our thaumaturges have banded together with the arcanists and conjurers to do what they can, but it's a slow process. With the way the ambient aether laid throughout the land has thinned in places, we have yet to find a suitable location to gather all we need for it."

"We've got one lightly used piece, but I hesitate to use it. I dunno, it feels like doing a tattoo with a used needle. Never a good idea." She looked back at the map, nodding slowly to herself, tapping the bluffs that the Ascian had pointed out. "We'll head out and hit them here then. Raubahn, Lyse, can you get a blockade up across here? Something solid, three separate layers half a dozen or so fulms apart from each other, just in case the Black Rose goes that way? As he said, I full think that if he starts teleporting things away that Elidibus will take that as an invitation to start poofing this stuff directly into our camps."

"Three layers?" Lyse frowned, glancing at the map and then back at the Warrior.

"Just in case. You never know what else might tumble down into the ravine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you THANK YOU! All of you, for all the comments! You've all made this such a delight to write!


	10. Chapter 10

It was a two-day flight to the bluffs. They got there before anyone else so that they could scout out the terrain, and though they didn't talk a whole lot during the trip it was largely because she had gotten tired of shouting at him. He might almost have been worried about her if he hadn't been able to survey her aether periodically and mark the contented way it seemed to swirl. He spent much of the trip instead with his arms wrapped around her as she directed the Yol. 

Unfortunately, it gave him plenty of time to think, and very little distraction beyond that which his mind could conjure, and even then he had to be careful. It took more time to get enough of his armor off than it took for a moment to turn sour, and considering he was going to spend an awful lot of time in it he greatly preferred to avoid dwelling on the way her breathy moans sounded. 

Besides, the armor chafed something _fierce_ in the few moments he let himself recall such things. 

So instead he let his thoughts wander, let the questions pile up and turned his mind as best he could to the coming conflict. The presence of Elidibus was not guaranteed, and Zenos tended to be headstrong when it came to the Warrior. There was a good chance that they wouldn't have to worry about interference from the Emissary. 

His eyes caught sight of the strap that secured the mask to her face, and not for the first time wondered at the why of it. 

For the Amaurotine, masks were everywhere. It was considered almost _indecent_ to be seen in public without one, reserved for the presence of lovers, close friends, parents or siblings. It would be like a woman going around topless in the current society. It was a sign that you were trying to bare your all to the person or people before you. 

Of course, what made the concept translate poorly into the modern day was that the Ascians tended to wear their masks with each other out of respect and remembrance for the fallen. Wearing a vessel, they didn't tend to care overmuch when it came to the half-cracked, incomplete things that called themselves people, because the vessel they wore at that time was the equivalent of a mask. 

He had missed masks, which was why he had made them by and large standard in the Garlean Empire. But she wasn't _from_ anywhere that his hand had directly shaped. So why did she wear it? 

Why had her soul lit up with astonished delight, as if meeting an old friend when the lalafel lad had pointed it out? 

It had felt wrong to replace it, she had said. That meant it had _meaning_, if not value to her. From what he could see of it, there was no special function or feature to it. An ash mask with a chunk of lapis lazuli in the forehead, painted what he had thought was black but, as the light caught it, revealed to be a particularly dark blue with two black markings, one per eye that flared out and then ran down to the chin with a slight curve. 

He hated it. _Her_ mask had born two flanges down her cheeks that the two black markings looked eerily similar to. But... He also craved it. Wouldn't it have been the _funniest_ thing if Hydaelyn, who had sundered _her_, drained away all that had made _her_ who _she_ was and picked _her_ of all people to still be Her champion had failed to fully overwrite-

No. That was a terrible line of thought. It would lead to nothing but bitterness and it didn't exactly matter anyways. So long as someone, _anyone_ out there remembered there was a chance that her Echo would pick up on it and that she would eventually see who she had once been. It was the difference between a freshly baked pie and the leftovers two days later. It didn't matter how tasty the remains were, nor how clearly they had once been a full pie. There never was any ice cream left and you always ended up _hating_ the person who had cut it and handed out the other slices.

She had gone into his recreation of Amaurot for him believing that she wasn't likely going to walk back out. Even if he hadn't known this reincarnation of _her_, that was just the sort of thing _she_ would have done-

Pressure on his glove. He blinked, glancing down as she stared up at him through her mask. A madcap. All wild enthusiasm and tenderness and an unyielding drive to save everything and anything that she could. A brief squint at her aetheric self had his lips curling upwards, before she pointed downwards on an angle.

He tilted his head, following the line of her arm, and nodded. 

They were there.

* * *

"Twelve, I thought I'd be bowlegged by now for -sure-." The Warrior hobbled about, chafing at her inner thighs. Considering her Yol refused any attempt to be saddled, he couldn't blame her. Regardless of how padded and protective his own armor was, it was like trying to wrap his legs around the width of a cot. 

Still, he tried to have more dignity than her, and simply stretched his legs one after the other and reminded them that walking was a thing. 

"Remind me to teach you how to fly one of the small, single-man flying machines some time. 'Tis far more preferable than your beast."

"Already know how to actually, learned ohh... Was it Nidhogg? Sometime 'round there. I prefer my Yol! If I whistle she shows up. Magitek won't do that, regardless of how sentient they might seem. 'Sides when she hunts I get food too." Rolling her shoulder, she turned her masked face towards him and tilted her head to the side. "I seem to remember someone else showing up when I whistled too, you know. I was mentally making Ascian-summoning jokes for days after that."

"Hmm. Maybe give it a try some time. You never know what might answer." His tone was a lilting drawl, and she threw her head back and snorted before shrugging out of his coat and holding it out to the beast.

"Skree! Hatchling. Go hunt."

He cringed as the Yol's beak opened and then closed ever so gingerly around the coat, stepping back as the wings came out to send the beast skyward once more.

"I still cannot believe you named the beast 'Skree'." He shrugged the shield from his back, sliding his hand through the straps and testing to make sure it was secure even as he settled his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. 

"You think that's bad? My favourite chocobo is named 'Kweh'-"

_("You have to find a better name for them! You can't just name the species 'Kweh'!" He was shaking his head in disbelief as she pouted and folded her arms._

_"That's the sounds they make though!")_

"... Hades?"

He jerked slightly, pulling himself from the memory and heaving a sigh. "I truly _do_ hope you didn't name it such because of the sound it makes."

"Mmmaybe." Turning and crouching, she peeled off the thin riding gloves and stuffed them away into a pouch, even as she withdrew a pair of half-gloves that were backed with metal to replace them with. They left the ends of her fingers and parts of her palms bare, letting her curl her hands into more compact fists, and once she was wearing them she picked up some dirt and rubbed it between her hands. 

"Whatever are you doing now?"

"Checking to see how much slide I'll have. I accelerate really good, but stopping's another matter entirely. This stuff here? Sort of loose. Not too bad though. By the way, how strong are you? Physically, I mean. I know Garleans tend to be ridiculously sturdy - fought a few, after all -but is Zenos an outlier? Is it a Selchlette thing?" The Warrior stood up and ambled over, cracking her neck quietly as she did.

"Zenos was an experiment that yielded mixed results. Oh, I don't mean _biologically_, all Garleans have the potential to hit his level of strength. His was simply honed from the very earliest moments of his life." Drawing in a breath and peering upwards at the sky, he pondered her question before humming thoughtfully. "I would say that, physically... No. I am not his equal. Few would be, however, in the physical sense."

"Alright. So telling me all this isn't answering the question I'm failing to ask properly. Brace with your shield." The Ascian studied her, before settling into a ready stance, shield presented as he drew his sword and held it low to the side. She backed up a few steps, settling low and letting out a slow breath. "I want you to heave as hard as you can when I hit that shield, alright?"

"I begin to see what, exactly, you were getting at." The sword flit around to tap the shield twice, indicating he was ready. Watching her closely, he grunted as she bolted towards him and hopped, coiling her legs under her so that she just barely brushed the surface of the shield... And he shoved upwards, as hard as he could with one arm. She kicked off as he completed the extension, sending her soaring upwards and arcing slightly when she ran out of momentum. 

"Angle!"

Obligingly, he braced and angled the shield, and when she came back down he felt her hit it and slide, twisting into a roll that sent her skidding and rumbling across the ground. Pushing herself up and brushing herself off, he could hear the grin in her voice as she tucked her hands on her waist and surveyed him. 

"Yeah, I think that'll do nicely. Good thirty, fourty feet of up and down there."

"I could very likely do better if I used a spark of magic for it. That was simply strength of arm combined with the strength of your legs." Slipping his arm out of the straps of his shield, he grounded it and slowly flexed his hand. 

"Good. 'Cause if he turns into a dragon, I'm going to need to get juggled. Not that I know that he will or not, but last time he possessed one so best to cover my bases if possible." She idly brushed some dirt from her shoulder before studying him and jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Shall we? Saw something shiny that way."

Hefting his shield, he sheathed his sword and gestured for her to lead the way.

* * *

"So, question for you."

The shiny had turned out to be a vein of crystal, which they were now enjoying the shade of as he sipped from the flash she had handed him, and the Ascian hummed inquisitively as he handed it back. "Always questions, with you. Well, if nothing else 'tis proof there is a working brain in there somewhere..."

"Haa." She snerked, shifting the mask aside to take a sip from the flask and then slid it back into place. "The Crystal Exarch also favoured a shield and sword, and he's a sorcerer like you. And I know for a _fact_ that he used to prefer the bow. What went into your choice of weaponry?"

"Now _that_ is an interesting question indeed." Emet-Selch lifted his head, glancing around before ambling closer with the rustle of fabric and scrape of metal against metal. "I cannot speak for the Exarch, but as 'tis nigh impossible for a Garlean to use magic, and I could hardly tip my hand while shaping my Empire, I greatly reduced the amount of magic I used. Why the sword and shield specifically I cannot say, beyond that they were what Solus used at the time and it would have seemed quite odd indeed if I suddenly swapped the weapons he used."

"Wait, that almost makes it sound like..." He could hear the squint in her voice, and she was tipping her face down as she thought about it, even as she motioned for him to follow her as they began their treck back to the bluffs.

"Yes. He was ohh... Twenty three? Twenty four? When I selected him. Of course, I had spent a fair bit of time learning them before I could go out in public and make a convincing case of myself in combat, but it never truly left me." He fell into step with her, shield hanging from his back and one hand on his sword as he kept an eye out - aetherically or otherwise - to remain alert and aware of his surroundings. "Ohh, I believe I have a question for you this time, my little Monster."

"What's up?" She glanced over at him, before keeping an eye on the direction they were walking in.

"The opposite of down." The Ascian quipped back, drawing a snicker from his companion. "You were barely awake and knew that it was the miqo'te harpy-"

"Y'shtola, her name is Y'shtola."

"-That I have long since begun to regret plucking from the lifestream, yes, but you knew it was she at the door. She had yet to speak. You were physically blind to the world at that time, face pressed against my shoulder as it was." They were climbing now, and she was making far better time than he was with how she was both carrying less weight and simply more agile, though she paused to keep watch periodically and track his progress. "How, precisely, did you know that it was her?"

"I dunno. I just sorta... Knew. Gut instinct. " she paused, before reaching down to help haul him up the final ledge. "I try no to question it too much, 'cause I tried thinking about it once and it stopped working. And then, when I'd forgotten about it, it started working again. I always thought maybe it was like my Echo. Works when it wants to, not when I want it to."

"Have you considered practicing with it?" The Ascian brushed himself off before drawing himself up to his full height, back cracking quietly under the armor as he sighed and surveyed the area from their vantage point. "If you but learned to control your Echo, it could-"

"Tried. Failed." The abruptness with which she answered caught him off guard for a moment, and he studied her silently as he tried to pick apart what might have caused the spike in bitterness that had ever so briefly needled through her. Her hands were settled on the hilts of her weapons, her gaze set ahead and her shoulders loose.

"A conversation for another time, then?" Carefully, Emet-Selch kept his tone light and tilted his head to the side, watching her as she rapidly drummed her thumbs against the swords. 

"That's-" The Warrior sighed, before reaching up to trace a hand along one of the markings along the eyes of her mask. "... Alright. But please don't go repeating this to anyone."

"You have my most solemn oath, my little Monster."

"In Ala Mhigo, Zenos gave the Resonant to a fighter. I won't name her, but I'm sure you can figure out who if you give it some thought. Locked in a cell after we captured her, her Resonant acted like my echo. Increased perception. Enhanced physical reflexes, durability, strength and speed. The ability to see the memories of those within a certain distance." She reached up to rub her temples, shaking her head slowly. "... She constantly saw the memories of those set to guard her. Constantly felt their resentment, their sorrow, grief, anger, everything that bubbled to the surface in their tortured little hearts and minds... Her Resonant picked up on it. And it's worse than torture."

"And... This happened to you. You simply... Couldn't stop." He stepped closer, reaching to draw her against his chest even as he wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her head against his chest, nodding slowly. 

"I couldn't turn it back off, couldn't shut it out, so I started to goof off. I thought maybe, if I could make them laugh I'd start seeing memories of them laughing. Didn't work. So I started avoiding people. That took the edge off, but what about the times when I needed to talk to folk? To fence goods? I didn't have a trade. I started picking up memories off of objects. So I turned to fighting things. Fighting monsters. It _hurt_, but I was a fair hand at it. But what about when I go to sell the bits? I couldn't hide in the wilderness forever." She shivered, hair on the back of her neck standing on end for a moment until he idly rubbed her back. "This mask, it's been with me since those days. I started wearing it so that people wouldn't notice when I went glassy-eyed and vacant when my Echo kicked in. So that when my face twisted into the grief they felt because some animal had killed their son, and I'd been the one what killed it and so was collecting the reward..."

He tilted his head down, hunching enough to press a kiss into her hair as she sighed. 

"... Drinking helps, surprisingly. I don't know if it blocks it or what, but there's a certain level of buzzed where I stop getting Echo flashes. 'Course, that was before I started working with the Scions. Working with them helped with lessening how many of them I get to a certain degree, but... Anything I pick up, it's from a personal point of view."

"Hmm, quite a few questions answered and mysteries solved today, but if I am allowed to ask another... How did you come to be separated from it?" He leaned back enough that he could smooth his fingers across it, noting the little imperfections that spoke of use and combat. 

"Your dear old great-grandson and the Crystal Exarch, actually. G'raha tried to summon me while I was fighting Zenos, and I'm told I was just about cut in half. The strap must have snapped when I hit the ground, 'cause when I woke up I didn't have it with me. I asked about it, but nobody'd seen it, and Estinian had buggered off so it wasn't like I could ask him."

"And because of what it meant to you, it simply felt wrong to replace it." The Ascian nodded slowly, stepping away as she chuckled weakly. 

"And instead spent a great deal of time wandering the First slightly tipsy at any given moment, yeah." Rubbing the back of her head, she looked up to him and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Twelve, the festival was fun. The hang-over the next day, less so but... How -did- you get so chipper first thing? Snap of your fingers and the intoxication goes away?"

"Zodiark's Mercy, no. I simply found a new vessel, temporary as it was. And before you ask, fret not. I put him back to rights that very evening and ensured he was none the worse for wear." He sounded smug, and as she watched the corners of his lips pulled upwards into an amused smile. 

"That's damn convienient when you've got spare bodies just lying around. Reminds me though, how many clones do you have?"

"Three spares, plus one. The first thing I did upon returning to the Source was to secure them." The Ascian turned slightly to survey the terrain once more. "'Tis a simple matter to enter Azys Lla and store such things there when one has the keys, after all."

"Good point. Maybe you can give me a proper tour one of these days. In the mean time, what do you think about down there for a campsite?" The Warrior nodded to an alcove in one of the bluffs, and Emet-Selch leaned to try and see it better before pausing as she quickly slipped the mask aside, smeck'd a kiss against an exposed part of his cheek, and bolted away with a cackle. 

Huffing out an amused sound, he shook his head and followed, something of a spring to his step. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so my time off ends. We'll see how much writing I can do through the week, between work and after work work.   
Thank you, everyone, for your comments and kudos, your bookmarks and time! You have no idea how motivating hearing from you is!  
... I wrote roughly 45k words in three days. Okay, so maybe you might have an idea.  
Onwards and upwards,   
-FR


	11. Chapter 11

Old (for really anyone else but him) habits were hard to shake. Emet-Selch found himself slipping into the routine small things that were required to maintain and keep his gear in working order with barely a thought required.

Garlean armor was basically designed so that whoever was wearing it could, in essence, live in it for extended periods of time if needed. For all that he had spoke of marinating in his own sweat they were cleverly designed with synthetic fabrics that greatly reduced that unfortunate unpleasantness. The pieces that covered him from the waist up, while they may have layered down past his waist to a certain extent, were also completely separate from the pants. While removing the whole thing took time, for basic bodily functions it worked out quite well. 

He could run, he could jump, he could swing and lift his arms properly over his head as he had decided against the shoulder pauldrons. Climbing was a little awkward but doable. He only -really- had to worry about the average blade slipping through his armor if it came from directly beneath him, and what were the odds of _that_ happening in siege tactics? Slim to none. Spiked traps were terribly time consuming to set up, and he -could- fly. 

Conversely, fleet of foot and as agile as a gremlin, while he had the edge when it came to raw physical strength (by a surprisingly small margin, it had turned out, though that 'small' margin was still fairly wide by anyone else's standards) she could slip aside and get out from under a blow as it descended. She had long come to believe that, considering the things she fought on a regular basis, heavy armor was by and large a waste of time considering the Ishgardians could attest to how easily a dragon like Nidhogg could puncture full plate. For the bigger ones, it was as easily as poking a sword through a cloth shirt. For Primals... 

Hoo boy, Primals hit -hard- when they did. No amount of plate armor was going to prevent Titan from crushing someone in his fist, and against Leviathan all it would have spelled was death by drowning. So instead, she favoured the lighter stuff that afforded her more protection from scraped elbows and knees when she went tumbling across the ground than they ever would against a proper weapon. A leather coat, usually with the sleeves rolled up. Gloves with metal backs to them in the event that she needed to punch any of the Tempered in the vain hope that she wouldn't have to kill them. Padded pants with patches over the knees from the countless times she had blown out the knees, and knee high boots with metal caps on the toe and heel that kept her from accidentally breaking her toes and let her apply her feet to people's faces for the same reasons she might punch them. 

And pockets. Emet-Selch had never seen someone so fascinated with _pockets_ before, at the very least not that he could be bothered to recall. They all zipped or clasped shut so that should she end up upside down, nothing fell out. She had not one, but two belts. One for the two swords and the other, specifically, for half a dozen pouches into which small every day items were squirreled away. 

For her, regular maintinence was mostly dedicated to the throwing knives she had sheathed about herself (fifteen, she had admitted) the two black blades with their odd ability to cut through aether if properly applied. She was -proud- of those. After breaking a handful of longer hunting knives against Titan's knees, she had finally broken down and commissioned them. The only other plausible 'weapons' that she had that she checked on was the pair of round flasks she carried that she had been very careful to never drink from. 

They were both what she called 'greasers', and each contained a thick, viscus oil-like liquid that was highly flammable and spread out into a thin layer that was extremely slick. Without burning it away, she explained, she didn't really have a way to get them off of a surface beyond time. Efforts had been made. Tataru's wrath had been invoked. No amount of scrubbing or soap had worked until it had caught enough dirt to 'dry' and then been scraped off in an odd, semi-gelatinous goop that still left a remarkably slick film across the surface it was being removed from. The lalafel had been forced to replace an entire ten fulm section of hallway, and the slab still sat somewhere outside the Waking Sands. 

She had been trying to work on a non-flammable version the one time the Ascian had intruded on her lab time to inform her that it had been liable to explode, she explained. He ahh'd in understanding, recalling the moment and realizing why she had been so upset. She indicated that it was particularly effective against magitek constructs, and he huffed at her teasing tone. 

It had been literal decades since the last time he had slept outside, let alone on the ground, but as the Warrior seemed to be a scavenger by nature he didn't worry about it too much. Even limiting himself as he was he had no need to sleep, instead chunking out the time his physical body might need to recover from strenuous activities as needed, and when he admitted as much he could feel the way she squinted at him. 

"So, about that. I get that you need to let the body rest, and that it doesn't have to actually be asleep to rest in your case. I _get_ that, and not gunna lie I'm a bit envious, but what about your floppy-bit form?"

Emet-Selch sputtered, spitting water out and scrubbing at his face. She had waited for him to take a drink, she had done that on -purpose-, and he could see it in the way the washed out hue of her soul swirled. 

"Oh for the love of... 'Tis a form born of _pain_, I would have you know. I didn't always look like that, form warped and twisted by the passing eons and the grief of losing an entire civilizatio-"

"It's you. It's you down to the very marrow of the bones you were born with, distilled, refined and hammered out across the anvil of the ages." The Warrior pushed herself up and ambled over to stand beside where he sat and wrap his arms around him from the side, tilting his head so that she could rest her chin atop it without getting stabbed by any of the small pointy bits that lined the top like a crown. "Larger than life, bearing the recollections of the past with wide, sweeping wings and clawing your way along through the ages with talons that have been honed, sharpened and evolved for just that purpose. Wide shouldered, crowned, a king clad in robes of black ragged and tattered by the endless conflict. And yet, there are parts of you that are still the you you were before everything went to shit. Arms that still feel and seek to hold."

"... You are horribly over-romanticizing a terrible thing, you know. To which, I might add, when did _you_ become the eloquent one?" The Ascian snuck an arm around her waist as he grumbled, huffing quietly.

"I read part of a play. Got tickets to it in Gridania, actually, but I guess we're not going to be able to go. Was the present I was going to try and give to you, since I remembered you like theater." She shifted slightly so that she could idly run her fingers through what she could of his hair. "... You know, there isn't a whole lot I can do to stop you from hating yourself so much that you wanted me to be strong enough to kill you, but what I _can_ do is try and point out that not all monsters are all bad. Look at me, for example. How many people do you know of that can get eaten by Nidhogg and be more or less fine for it? Look at the Exarch. He's part -crystal- from fusing with the Crystal Tower." 

She tipped her mask to the side, perching it on the side of her face as she leaned and teased his own mask aside, smiling easily at him. "Thancred grew up every inch the thief I did. Urianger has this 'for the greater good' mentality that makes him think lying to me is okay and that helping people martyr themselves is acceptable. I'm not going to absolve you of the things I know you've done, and I definitely can't absolve you of the things you've done that I don't know about, but right here and right now you're _helping_. That means more to me than you might think."

"And if I stopped helping?" He watched her, eyes partially lidded as she continued running her fingers through what she could of his hair and along the back of his neck. 

"I'd steal your boots and let you decide between walking home and teleporting. You're the Architect. You _build_ things. It's what you do. Cities, rapport and relationships. Empires. I've every ilm of faith that you can build something to help your own goal that won't get everyone killed." 

(_"It's beautiful..." She was staring at the garden, easing along the white stone path before turning to look at him, hands clasping behind her back. "I shouldn't be surprised. You're the Architect. You built this, after all. It's what you do, so of course you'd be amazing at it and it would be amazing too."_

_He had reached out with a flourish, excited to show her the secret side passage that led to a loft, hidden by vines and flowers that he had made to bloom madly, just for her. Things crafted and created by his own magic, and she took the time to marvel at each and every one._)

She looked away abruptly, jaw tensing as she reached up as if to pull the mask back into place, and hesitated even as he wondered at what she must have seen that had pitched her aetheric presence into such a downward spiral and caused it to compact, clench about itself as if in pain. The Ascian reached out, scooping her up and tucking her sideways across his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her and idly trace his fingers along the edge of her face. 

"What did you see?"

"Yknow how we both pointedly don't talk about how I'm going to eventually die and you're eventually going to get hurt by it? Because it _sucks_ and it's a painful topic, no matter how we think about it?" She glanced up at him, before tilting her head to press her lips against his palm idly. "... I dunno if I want to talk about what my Echo shows me around you for the same reasons. The past _hurts_, and it's not even wholly mine."

He huffed out an amused sound, before pulling his mask off so that he could set it aside and reaching to properly remove hers as well. "'Tis only to be expected of one who practices the belief that avoiding an attack altogether will spare them the pain of it. How is it that I am more accepting of the ideal that pain is a simple part of living? An unnecessary part, and one most unpleasant, but pain promotes growth and change. So speak. Bare to me that which causes your soul to clench. I have lived with the pain of the past for so long, and you may come to realize that I _miss_ it, yes, but nostalgia is a balm unto itself. What am I going to do, reminisce with _Elidibus?_"

"... Alright. Only if you're sure though." She studied his face, and rolled her eyes at the way he quirked a brow at her. "Yeah yeah, I'm stalling. You'd made a garden, with a white stone path. There was a secret path to the side, hidden behind some hedges, and going up it led to a perch that was blocked off by a white trellis. It was just _loaded_ with these huge impossibly blue flowers, and if you were up there you couldn't really be seen from the rest of the garden, but you could peer down at people in it if anyone happened by."

He remembered it. He remembered it quite well, actually, and he quickly connected the dots between what he had been thinking about (and recalling at that time) and the moment she had all but flinched. "Clematis."

The Warrior snerked, clapping a hand over her face. "That sounds like a junk disease." 

"'Tis the _name of that flower_, you horrible little monster." The hand that had settled onto her thigh swatted her idly, and she raised her hands in surrender and defense even as she snickered. "The catch-all for that species of them, if nothing else. Half of building things is their arrangement. It took hours to get them all faced the right way, as I recall, and they all wanted to bloom at different times. I had to keep creating them and replacing them before enough of them were set to go at the same time." 

"An awful lot of hard work. Didn't you get bored?" 

"Why do you think it took me _hours__?_ I kept wandering off for new inspiration and then dragging myself back regardless of whether or not I had found it."

* * *

"Alphinaud! Where'd your sister run off to? I want to ask her about a thing!"

The elezen glanced up form his book, blinking and smiling at the Warrior as she ambled over. "She went out to scout, I believe-"

"Shit! Shit shit shit! We've got to move, I've got one of those _feelings! _Emet-Selch!" She turned and waved both arms at the Ascian as he looked up from where he was cleaning his sword with a rag. "I need your aether-sensing capabilities! We've probably got a problem!" 

"Zodiark forbid that the day before the confrontation pass us by peacefully." Pushing himself up, he sheathed the blade and made his way over, tucking his hands on his hips even as Alphinaud scrambled to his feet. 

"My Yol hasn't passed over us in hours, and she only buggers off like that when something's moving that isn't supposed to, like something new, or because she's gone off hunting and I _know_ she's well fed. Something's up. Can you find Alisaie?" The Warrior pulled her mask into place as he nodded, turning towards the young elezen. "Thank's. While he's doing that, do you remember what way she went off?"

"East by north east, I believe. She only left a few minutes ago."

"What page were you on?" She reached out to flick the book.

"One hundred and fourty nine." He blinked, before rifling through his book and going pale as he paused. "... Some two hundred pages ago."

"Half an hour to an hour ago then." The Warrior glanced over to where the Ascian was standing with his eyes partially lidded, looking off in the indicated direction. "Emet-Selch?"

"Weeelll... I have good news, and I have bad news."

* * *

The good news was, she was alive. 

The bad news, was that she was a lot farther out than expected. They had jogged along until they came across the corpse of a Garlean scout and several scorch marks on the ground, to which Alphinaud had gasped for air and waved them on, wheezing something along the lines of catching up. A shared glance between the Ascian and the Warrior had caused Emet-Selch to huff and then lean over to hook an arm around the twin's waist and tuck him under his arm so that he wouldn't be left behind as they broke out into a dead run through the winding paths that separated the bluffs. 

"What happened to the menacing walk!" 

"Do _you_ want to carry the boy? If so, by all means, do continue!" She had cackled at that, skipping ahead of him. He checked again the location of their missing party member, before cursing under his breath. "She's picked up speed."

She continued along for a moment, before twisting to give him a thumbs up. As she oriented back on the path ahead of them, she slowed for the barest moment needed to adjust her stride before bolting off ahead. 

"Keep to the right twice, then left!" Glancing down at the boy (because really, to an ancient being such as him what else could he be?) and rolling his eyes at the white-knuckled grip he had on his arm, the Ascian shook his head. Turning abruptly, he coiled his legs under him and leapt and drawing his sword with his free hand to that he could embed it into the stone and swing, tearing it out as he went and landing neatly on one of the lower ledges. Refusing to break his stride, he sheathed the blade and bodily hurling the now green-tinged Alphinaud up and onto the ledge above. A jump, two punched out handholds and he was at the top as well, scooping the visibly distressed elezen back up and resuming his sprint. 

"If you lose your lunch across the side of my armor, I _will_ make you clean it." 

Alphinaud clamped a hand across his mouth, grunting.

He had to admit, as he cleared a gap with a running leap, that she was gaining on the skiff. Where it needed to slow down to take corners she simply leapt, twisted, and ran along the wall until she could kick off and hit the ground running once more. He could feel her progress as she drew closer to her goal, and grunted as he hurled himself (gracefully, he would like to have thought, but only because at the apex of his leap he _drifted_ twenty feet before letting gravity take hold of him once more) across another gap. Two more, and he would make it out of the bluffs a few seconds after the vehicle. It would lose him on the flat plains thereafter, however...

"_If_ you wish to save your sister, I would recommend preparing the most powerful spell you know. When I throw you, 'tis _your_ job to cast it ahead of the skiff."

He liked to think that the elezen was nodding, and not simply flopping like a ragdoll in his grip as the boy shifted his white-knuckled grip to his grimoire and cracked it open.

She would be practically on top of it by then, largely by virtue of the hairpin turn right before the bluffs opened up. He had one more gap to go, and adjusted his grip on Alphinaud so that he could prepare to throw him. Three steps, and the skiff exited the path and started to pick up speed again. Two steps and she shot out after it. One, and he was leaping and lobbing the elezen by the back of his coat and belt as if he was some sort of oddly weighted javelin. 

To his credit, Alphinaud managed to get the spell off. He even managed to get it placed where he needed to, ahead of the skiff and throwing up plumes of dirt and shards of rock as the explosion tipped the skiff's nose to the side, causing it to wobble and slow dramatically as it's pilot tried to course correct. The boy even managed to curl and hit the ground in a tumbled roll, getting his feet under him and skidding to a stop before he fell off the side of the bluff. Landing heavily after having drifted the extra ten feet he needed to to get across, the Ascian skid along and planted his sword into the rock to halt his momentum even as he hauled the shield off his back. Stuffing his arm through the straps he made it to the edge of the bluff before slowing to a stop and sheathing his blade. 

The Warrior was dragging an unconscious Alisaie from the upended skiff with one hand, the unconscious pilot with the other. 

* * *

"Thank the Twelve you didn't explode it! They would have seen the smoke. Quick thinking though, I don't think I could have caught up once they hit the flats." She was grinning under the mask, he could hear it in the tone of her voice and see it in the way her essence swirled. 

"A moral conundrum. Whatever will you do now, I wonder?" The Ascian idly nudged the unconscious pilot with the toe of his boot, quirking a brow as she tilted her head to the side. 

"No conundrum. He gets stripped down to just clothing, tied up and then whenever he wakes we ask him questions. If he has something helpful, he has something helpful. If not, he stays tied up in one of the alcoves further back until I can send someone to get him or, as is what usually happens, after the rest of them retreat he gets let go." She tucked her hands onto her hips, idly stretching one leg and then the other as she let out a thoughtful hum and then ambled over to start pilfering weapons from the unconscious captive. 

"With what rope, I would wonder?" He stepped aside, feeling the aether of their captive stir as he started to come to consciousness.

"Hah, shows what you know. Best way to tie someone up is with their own clothes. You full-nelson them with their shirt to start with."

"It's almost an art for her at this point." Alphinaud glanced over sheepishly as he finished healing his sister, who was coming to with a slight groan. "As undignified as it may be to have your legs tied together with your own pants, it was the best solution we could come up with to prevent any plans or positions from being exposed-"

"Oh hey! I know this one." The Warrior had removed the helmet from the pilot, and waved her hand in front of his face as he blinked groggily up at her. "What was your name again, Jer-somethiing lux... Uhh..."

"...Iacobus..." came the disappointed answer, and the pilot shifted so that he was sitting upright, sighing and folding his legs. 

"Iacobus! That's right, Iacobus jen Jorgund. Sorry, forgot about that. You meet so many people these days, though..." She waved a hand, still settled into a comfortable crouch. "Man, this is what, the third time?"

"They think I'm lucky." He lifted a hand to his head, before blinking at the still-masked Ascian. His eyes went wide and round. 

"I mean, I'd have to agree. Oh him? Yeah. I dunno how to explain him to you yet, so don't worry about it. Just focus on me, okay? It's gunna be alright." She snapped her fingers a few times, getting his attention and then resting her forearms neatly on her knees. "You know the drill by now, right?"

He winced, nodded and looked down at the dirt he sat on. "... They're about a half a day's march out. We were sent out to scout because we got wind that you were here, and he wanted confirmation."

"How? Who passed down the order?"

"It... came directly from Emperor Zenos himself, Miss." 

The palest shade of bluest blue that was the unmistakable hue of her soul swirled, condensing like a fist. "... I can imagine how that went. Look, I know I've already made this offer once, but I'll make it again. We don't kill squad mates here just to make a point. Why don't you really, seriously give it some thought? I know you said you have a son on the way last time but, c'mon, buddy we both know you were lying. No harm, no foul alright?"

He blinked up at her, before glancing over to Emet-Selch and flinching. "I..."

"Look, if I somehow have the Founding Father of your own nation helping me fight Zenos - and believe you me, it's a _really_ long story that I don't want to get into right now - then it shouldn't be impossible right? Cid, Nero, Gaius and Solus have all worked with me at some point in the past, and that's just the tip of the mountain. You _know_ what Zenos wants to do with the Black Rose, and you _know_ he doesn't care about his own people. That's why there's just the four of us here waiting for him and not an army. We don't want any more people to die than what have to."

Iacobus hunched, thinking about it for a moment before sucking in a breath and closing his eyes. 

"He's got a vanguard of fifty, plus three Armours. There's a personal guard of another fifty with him, and a squad two hundred strong are flanking east to circle around and get past you as he keeps you here. They... They plan to cut you off from the others, so that you can't retreat. So that you _have_ to fight him. I'm going to _die_, he's going to-"

"Heyheyheyhey," She reached out, snagging him by the arms and patting him lightly. "It's going to be okay. Alphinaud, Alisaie, you know what i'm gunna ask of you two."

"We can't just _leave_ you here-"

"I can't just _walk_ you two into that big of a conflict." She looked over at them, sounding exasperated and gesturing to the two of them with one hand. "Louisoix would _kill_ me, by way of haunting me and shaming me any time I took a drink. I'd be dead before the week was out. Yeah, sure, they got the drop on you and that was the only reason they captured you, but c'mon. Who else can I send to guarantee we've got an army creeping up on their back bumper?"

"She is _hardly_ alone." Emet-Selch heaved a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as his armor rattled quietly and Iacobus stared in awe. "'Tis not as if I would simply _allow_ her to die in front of me. In the event that the worst should occur, my last act would be to deliver her swiftly to the infirmary, regardless of whether or not it was her wish to go."

The Warrior threw her hands into the air, caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place. On one hand, the Ascian's words (and she knew he wasn't lying either, that rat bastard) were helping to convince the twins, but on the other hand... Well, she supposed she would indulge him. He was the immortal with spare bodies, after all. He could get them killed as he pleased.

"Your word." Alisaie pushed her way to her feet, wincing and staring at the Ascian. "Give me your word on this."

"'Tis as if you struck your head in the crash. I am _ever_ so tired of people doubting my intentions." Slipping into a partial bow, Emet-Selch sighed and gestured towards the Warrior with one hand as the other one was held out somewhat to the side. "The Warrior of Light and Darkness shall not draw her final breath this day so long as I still draw my own, regardless of what my great-grandson may hope, wish for or otherwise attempt to plot. I, Solus zos Galvus, do thus swear this thing by the might of my arm. I, Emet-Selch do thus swear this thing by my mask. I, Hades, do thus swear this thing by my heart. Three times I have sworn thus, and should I so _fail_ to keep my word, may Hydaelyn strike me down and split me asunder as she did with all creation."

The twins stared at him, open mouthed for a long moment before the Warrior coughed politely.

"Right. Well then. Now that that's settled, I suppose I should give Iacobus back his weapons." 

* * *

"How many of those swears are actually binding?" 

"All of them." They stood atop the bluffs, a pillar of smoke rising from the trashed skiff between them and the glittering block of people that walked towards them. In the center was a floating platform that was piled high with containers that, from a distance, could have been anything. They knew better, knew what it was. "However, some _are_ more important than the others. My Garlean name, for example, holds far less weight than my title."

"Which holds less than your real name." She had drawn a throwing knife and was idly tossing it into the air, catching it and repeating the action. Emet-Selch nodded. "So. I'm going to play hide and go seek in the bluffs and canyons with him."

"I will remain at the entrance here, to prevent them from following easily and to keep an eye on the Black Rose. Elidibus watches from a distance."

"Anywhere I could see?" She glanced at him, and then peered out at the steadily advancing platoon. 

"Lacking the ability to see into the aetheric, doubtful. Your odd ability to listen, however, may bring him to your attention should he come close enough." The Ascian sighed, studying her for a moment. "Of all the things I expected to see, excitement and sorrow were not high on that list. You look forward to this."

"You got me. He's one _hell_ of a challenge. How can I not be excited? How can I not be a little sad, that I can't convince him to not kill people so that we can fight again and again and again?" She reached up, tapping her mask idly before stepping closer. "That's one of the things I like about you. I can do that with you, just fight and fight and fight. I can't just let his constant killing of people for no good reason stand, though. How do you think they'll react to seeing their former Emperor?"

"After the rumours you spread that my great grandson had a demon wearing his skin? Which, I might add, was well played. Probably a mixed bag. I _will_ kill them, you know."

"That's the thing about fights like this. Sure I want to save as many people as possible, but if folks attack me, they're fair game. I know my standards aren't yours, though, so all I ask is that if they start actively running away just... Give them a head start and practice that menacing walk?"

"What bribe do you offer for this thing?" He smirked as she tipped her mask up enough to reveal her grinning mouth, and leaned down to accept the kiss she offered. 

"... And one more for every one you let run away. How's that for a bribe?" Her grin widened as he offered her a proper Imperial salute before turning and stepping off the edge, landing with a heavy thump that sent out a ring of dust. 

The platoon stopped, two hundred feet away, so she ambled to the edge and cupped her hands around her mouth. 

"Zenos! You wanted me, so you got me! Come on in, and let's have at it then! Just you, and me!"

The current Emperor of Garlemald began to saunter forward, so she turned and jogged back across the bluff so that she could drop down into the canyon and take off running.


	12. Chapter 12

"Great-Grandfather." Zenos came to a stop a full dozen fulms away. "It seems the Coward was half-right. You are enthralled by her."

"Great-Grandson." Emet-Selch smiled, matching the greeting given and letting his voice settle into an easy lilt. "It seems the Warrior was full-right. That crown really _does_ look ridiculous. Whatever was I _thinking_, when I designed it so."

"Will you stand against me?" The blond swordsman had matched his smile, two expressions utterly devoid of joy and filled only with mockery turned against one another.

"On the contrary, of all those gathered you and you alone are invited to pass." The Ascian settled his hand on the hilt of his sword. "After all the effort she went through to oblige you, why-ever would I get in the way?"

"He said you would throw yourself before me to save her life." There was a tinge of disappointment to the katana-wielding swordsman's words, and he sighed wistfully before shaking his head. "I suppose I will simply have to come back for you."

"You foolish, _foolish_ boy." Tisking, pity colouring his words, Emet-Selch stood aside and watched as Zenos resumed his march towards the canyons that wove through the bluffs behind him. "Should there be enough of you left to be even a minor challenge, I shall be truly surprised."

Drawing his sword, the Ascian turned back to properly face the crowd and settled in to wait. 

* * *

He stopped a good twenty fulms in front of her, smiling. He drew one of his swords, tilting his head to study her as she settled her hands on her hips. It was one of the wider parts of the canyons that wove through the bluffs, which would give them plenty of room. 

"At last, my friend..."

"Zenos." She felt _old_ all of a sudden, and sighed. Before her lay the same steps as always, and for a moment-... But no. She had to try. "I would willingly fight you on a regular basis, freely and without reservation, if you'd just stop threatening to kill people for no reason."

"People?" He threw his head back, laughing. "Less than beasts, worthless-"

_Worthelss._ She tuned out whatever he said next, eyes closing behind the mask. She was getting sick and tired of people thinking of others as worthless. cracking her neck, she stretched idly and settled her hands on her head. 

"-before my blade!"

And then he was raising one sword, grinning as red and black expanded outwards in a nova. Dropping her hands, she drew both blades with a flourish and knelt down to stab one into the ground. The cascade of red split before her, and she sighed as he was suddenly _there_, in front of her, swinging that damn sword downwards. 

* * *

He could tell the fight had started. He could also feel Elidibus snooping around, and wondered what, exactly, he was up to. He couldn't rightly just _leave_ to go and find out, though. 

"Did he say great-grandfather?"

"He did, I heard it!"

"But... He's supposed to be dead!"

_She_ wouldn't have wanted him to simply wade out there and kill them. Still, waiting for them to get around to calling him a monster was going to be taxing in and of itself. 

"He was an old man!"

"He must be possessed by the demon-"

"I heard that he came back because Emperor Zenos chose to throw away everything he worked to build!" 

A familiar voice, that one, and the Ascian scanned the crowd before letting his senses slip once more to study the aetheric. Ahh, there he was. Towards the back The other Sneaky Bastard.

With a sigh, he idly drummed his fingers against the hilt of his blade. It was only when the disguised Scion had finally made his way to the floating platform that he raised the blade to call the platoon's attention to himself.

"Sons and Daughters of Garlemald!" 

* * *

She knew how he moved. She had fought him again, and again, and _again_, within the vaults of her mind and everywhere from Ala Mhigo to Doma. She supposed the reverse was also true, which was why she simply backtracked, hopped and skipped along so that his blade only ever met air. A twist here had it singing down and as he turned it and brought it across, she would drop into a crouch and then pop back up, sidling away. 

Don't get too far away, because of the energy that crackled around the edge of the area. Move away when lightning crackled around him. Tuck in close when the green gale gathered. Brace when red screamed through the air. 

Twelve, but she _hated_ the sound it made.

"I understand why you do this, Zenos. I truly do. It's the challenge. It's the thrill. I _get_ that. But there's easier ways to do it, y'know?"

"Fight me!" 

"How can I, when you're barely fighting me yourself?"

He stopped at that, watching as her backwards momentum carried her a few more steps so that she could stare at him and sigh. 

"I'm tired of this game, Zenos. I always try and convince you that there's other ways to go about it, and you always answer by mocking me. By mocking everyone. We dance back and forth, trading blows until one of us draws first blood, and then things get just the slightest bit serious. You either want to fight me, or you don't my friend."

He was glaring at her now. Blue eyed and blond haired, curved brows scrunched down over his brows. 

"You don't want to fight me." 

"Not like this, no. I thought you were different, you know. But no, you had to go and bring everyone else into it. You had to drag out Black Rose, threaten _everyone_ with it, just to fight me when you know damn well if you just sent me a _letter_ I'd just show up and we could go at it. This? _You're __no different__ from __them__._" The Warrior sighed, shaking her head. "The _sheep_." 

He took exception to that. She had the barest moment to twist aside as blue eyes went red on black, and he was _there_, in front of her, swinging downward with the sword. She stepped aside, and then hopped back as he followed it with a horizontal slash, following her movement. 

"Better."

The Warrior flourished her blades, and set herself for his next charge.

* * *

"Sons and Daughters of Garlemald!" 

Emet-Selch slowly lowered his blade as the fifty one strong crowd before him paid attention. One took advantage of his presence and got to work.

"Your current Emperor would throw away all that I have built, all that you have bled for, over two generations for nothing more than the ability to fight a single soul! Return beyond the border, return from whence you came and live to wage the true war, turn your backs upon his folly! For if you do not, you shall be as leaves in the wind before me."

He watched them as they swallowed and shared glances, weighing the weight of his words against the threats that Zenos had very likely levered against them. Almost idly, he let his senses slip into the aetheric once more and paused at what he could feel. 

Elidibus was practically on top of the Warrior. The chokehold that locked the essence of the Lightwardens had thinned, and was rapidly deteriorating. He had a clock, suddenly, that he had to beat.

Sighing, the Ascian started towards the crowd.

* * *

Something was oh so very _wrong_. 

She could feel it, the way the light-based aether within her had begun to churn and boil. It was a distraction that had almost cost her an arm, barely being able to pull the appendage back as Zenos brought his sword across in several quick, heavy two-handed strikes. She batted away what she could, ignoring the thin cuts that opened up and oozed blood along her forearms. 

"When I finish with you, I shall need a new Hunt. Perhaps my Great-grandfather? Elidibus says you have fought him before."

"You keep saying that phrase. 'Elidibus says'. How's his arm feel that deep up your ass, Zenos, that his hand moves and your lips flap?"

A diagonal slash, followed by a series of rapid stabs had her backpedaling in an arched circle. His Resonant seemed to act the same way Fordola's had, in that it had enhanced his physical abilities. Still, what had _he_ fought while she was in the First, slaying Lightwardens?

An aging Garlean man, by all accounts. He wasn't any stronger than he had been when he had taken the Primal's power for his own.

_Enough of this,_ she thought to herself, before scraping both blades against one another. The rasping sound brought a few sparks into view, and she stepped to her left towards what looked like a rock before giving it a solid kick towards the swordsman. Predictably, he cut clean through it, and the hollow, dirt-covered flask very nearly exploded in front of him as that horrible, viscus oil cascaded down on him in a deluge. 

He sputtered, wiping at his face and doing little more than smearing it further into his hair and eyes even as she bolted to the side, cutting a circle around him and scooping up the second flask so that she could chuck it at him and nod in satisfaction as it smashed against his back. He was fully soaked now, spinning to try and orient on her even as it burned his eyes, cursing her and her tricks. 

Heh. _Burned_ his eyes. 

She sidled up to him, leaning and ducking as he swung blindly towards her. 

"Last chance. Care to surrender and talk this out like normal folks?"

Red concussive force radiated out from him, and she sighed as she made it back to her feet so that she could amble silently around to his left. 

"Alright then. But don't blame me for this. You brought it on your self."

Two nasty black swords rasped against one another, shedding a few sparks.

* * *

"You truly are a monster."

The Warrior hummed conversationally from where she sat at the edge of a bluff, legs dangling and swinging idly as she watched Zenos and sipping from one of her flasks. She had made sure to fill one with brandy, though her spare was still filled with water. He was still down in the empty space, swinging and flailing as he burned, screamed and cursed. 

"Not yet I'm not, but I'm getting there. Your doing, I'd bet good gil on it." She glanced over, quirking an eyebrow as he stared at her. "What, you think I can't feel what you're doing to me? I had it all under complete, perfect control and now I'm cracking again. It's not like Emet-Selch would be the one doing it to me, and who else but you would have the knowledge of how to manipulate the aether of others?"

"When you turn, Emet-Selch will no longer be obligated to help you." He didn't bother trying to deny it, drifting in mid-air to watch where the swordsman was slowing down. "What... Is that, that you used on him?"

"Pine resin, quicklime, naptha, sulfur, ground fire-based aether crystal and petroleum-based Magitek joint lube. I call it 'greaser Plus', because it's even more volatile than what I'd wanted. I was trying to make a non-flammable version that's just a thick, stubborn grease, but, y'know. Some idiot went into my lab and wafted ground aether crystal around." She took another swig of her flask, before sighing. "Y'know, technically you're right, but then I went and _slept_ with the mad bastard, and if that didn't complicate things a bit then I'm an Ascian too."

"He is only keeping his word, Warrior. To him, you aren't even alive."

"Ergo, it won't be murder if he kills me, or anyone else. Yeah, so I've heard. But y'know, I've heard some people get really _attached_ to their pets. And I mean, _really_ attached. Like 'kick my dog and I burn down your house' attached. Care for a drink?" She offered out the flask, but he simply drifted a little further away. "You know, I really should thank you. If it wasn't for you, he'd be trying to possess me. But he can tell that I won't last much more than an hour or so after him at this rate. Op, there he goes." 

Zenos had finally collapsed, and she swung her legs before frowning. A sense of _listening_ filled the air. "Funny, seems a bit early for him to go dow-... Ohhhh. Oh I see. Haaah."

"For someone about to meet a fate worse than death, you certainly seem to have remained candid."

"Because I'm not going to die. You're in for a very bad time though." She glanced over towards the Ascian who stared back at her until she very pointedly leaned back to peer around him. "You were right. That batch had almost _explosive_ results, y'know."

"Elidibus."

"Emet-Selch."

"Aaaawkward~." The Warrior quirked a brow at the hulking form that unfurled from the patch of darkness behind the Emissary. It wasn't quite the aether-based shape that Hades had finally stabilized in when she was in Amaurot, but there were definite similarities. The two humanoid arms folded under the central mask, while the larger talon-laden ones flexed slowly. One held a staff of reddish purple crystal, while the other was wreathed in floating, twisting rings of red crystal, fingers ever so delicately wrapped around a canister and failing to do anything more than ever so slowly crush it. 

"... You wouldn't dare. We are brethren-"

"A true brother would _stop trying to murder **her** reincarnation_."

"She isn't your wife any more, Hades. She could never accept this form of yours, either. They are ever blinded by the surface, ignorant of what lies beneath."

"Ohh, that reminds me." The Warrior pushed herself up and limped past the Emissary, ignoring him for the moment in favour of peering up at her Ascian. "How many did you let get away?"

"Thirty seven."

"Well shit. Better than I could have hoped. Than-" She grunted, wobbling as her grin was spoiled by a look of disgruntlement. The two humanoid arms gathered her against his robes, helping to keep her upright as the staff was brought between her and Elidibus. "... 'Pologize in advance if I hurl on your ro- Hey, you're surprisingly soft..."

The white-robed Ascian stared at them, gaze shifting from the Warrior to the Architect and then settling on the dangerously crumpling canister before vanishing in a swirl of darkness. Almost immediately, the roiling turmoil within her eased, and she relaxed against his robes with a sigh. 

"Is he gone-gone?"

"For now."

"Thank's for getting Zenos out of there. Giving him one of your clones?"

He huffed out an echoing amused sound, before crouching down to cuddle her against the large, central mask as the canister was set aside. She obligingly snuggled against it before straightening abruptly. "'Tis a thought. He is a Selchlett, after all-"

"Hey! Your leg machine's not broke any more!"

That newly empty hand shifted ponderously over to cover the large mask as Hades heaved a sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went very differently in the first draft, but then my internet went out and I had to re-do the entire thing. One day I will write you a proper fight scene, but that is not this day apparently.  
Sorry if this isn't the same quality as the other chapters, but instead of having six hours to write, I had -two-  
FR is a sad writer today. : (  
Also, bonus points to whomever figures out loosely what 'Greaser Plus' basically ended up being.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydaelyn does an Oops

Part of him hoped she would ask. It hoped, and _burned_ for the chance to talk about _her_, gush about how they met, chat about the things they saw. He had spent so long mourning her alone that the words had collected and gathered inside of him until he felt fit to burst. But... He also dreaded it. To speak directly of _her_ was a painful thing. It would inevitably lead to how he had _lost _ her and the regrets that were directly tied to the day his entire world had come crashing down. That grief was a raw wound across his soul.

The last things he had said to her when she had been able to hear them hadn't been _kind_ ones, after all. 

She didn't, though. They had waited for a half an hour for the Ascian to re-weave his form into that of his Garlean form and then went off to check the floating platform and to see if Thancred was still around. He tried not to hover protectively as she limped along, but after the way she had turned her mask towards him and tilted it to the side he knew he was failing. 

"Is it the limp? I'm pretty sure the lightwardens I've got in me are stable. Unless I'm missing something, I feel fine."

"Adrenaline does that, or so I have been told." Emet-Selch folded his arms, huffing idly. "But yes, if you must ask. 'Tis the limp."

"Funnily enough, that was my own damn fault. When I lit Zenos there was a fair bit of blowback, and I landed seven kinds of wrong." She was well and truly sheepish, he could see it in the way she ducked her head and the awkward counter-clockwise swirl to her aether. "I don't -think- anything's broken? I'll have to call my Yol to head back though."

"Elidibus is far enough away and paying little enough attention that I could feasibly transport us there myself."

"With my Yol? You know I won't leave her behind." She reached the edge of the floating platform and hauled herself up. "Lessee... Defused, defused, defused..."

"'Tis a shame you have not a mount that would simply form itself from the ambient aether. You would have to worry less about leaving it behind." Emet-Selch hauled himself up after her, sweeping out with his aetheric senses. No Thancred in range. Privately, he was a mix of relieved and curious. "Your stealthy friend appears to have left without us."

"He probably retreated with the rest of the Garleans so that he could keep blending in. I'm not too worried. Also, about that aetheric mount..." She glanced over, before tucking a hand against her chest. "So, I may or may not have a mini-Midgardsormr. But Skree's sort of my go-to for flight because, y'know, living breathing thing that I want to spend time with before either my or her end. Plus she doesn't talk anywhere near as much, and if I have to thee and thou my way through a six hour stretch in the sky I might just jump off on my own and try to end it all."

The Ascian folded his arms, staring at her through his mask. An ugly, jealous feeling had begun to roil through him.

"What." She felt along her injured leg, sounding exasperated.

"Do you _collect_ immortals, then?"

The Warrior snorted, before sitting down on one of the disarmed canisters. "Hey, it's not like that and you know it. He took away my blessing of light to make sure I was 'worthy'. Seems that's an immortal thing, that, trying to see how 'worthy' people are. You're hardly the exception to the general rule of 'make life difficult for the Warrior of Light and see how they get through things'. I've just sort of come to accept that it's the norm at this point."

"Hmm..." He stepped forward, snapping his fingers and idly reaching out to grasp the front of her coat as the canisters she had been perched upon abruptly vanished along with the floating platform. She wheezed in surprise, both hands coming to snag his wrist as he held her aloft by the his grip on the leather. "Then what is it."

"What's what?" For all that she dangled in his grip, she didn't seem particularly afraid, curling her legs so that she could balance and remain more or less straight. He could read the bafflement in her aether.

"Why. Why _why_ why -why- **why.**"

_Why -me-? _

_(She isn't your wife any more, Hades.)_

He watched her. He _watched_ her and he could -feel- the _listening_ in the air as she stilled and watched him too. Relaxing, she folded one arm over his wrist and cupped her other elbow in her hand so that she could prop her chin up on a fist. 

"Ohh, I get it. I see. No matter how hard we both try and ignore it, it's bubbling through you, isn't it. _Doubt_. His words... They really hurt you, didn't they." She tucked her head down enough that she could pull off her mask and turned her bared face towards him, smiling softly. "I won't pretend to be able to answer all of those why's, but I can say that I've figured out at least one of them. I'm not being controlled, or forced to like you simply by way of - what did you call it? Reincarnation? - or anything like that. Sure, it was something I thought might be, and was ready to accept that, but you know? I _like_ you. _I_ like _you_. I've shared with you food, drink, and time. I've opened the circle of my arms to you, and found that I _like_ the way they fit around you. You're sassy. You've got a wicked sense of humour. You're lazy. You're _tall_, and sure you don't have long hair, but it's ever so very _soft_." 

He stared at her as if she had grown a second head. 

"Everyone's got a _type_, you know. I've had enough flings to know what mine is. You're not _perfect_, but, y'know." She gestured idly at him, grinning cheekily and clearly teasing. "You'll _do_." 

"I should just drop you and scare your Yol away, you know." He blinked as she twisted and arched her back, slipping out of the coat to leave it in his grasp and make her way along his arm as if he was a crossbeam or section of wall she was climbing using only her hands. Patiently, she snagged onto his breastplate and hauled herself up high enough that she could wrap an arm around his shoulders and properly anchor herself, tucking her forehead against his own. 

"I didn't crave your attention and presence when we met like I do now, you utter _ass_." Her voice had turned gently chiding, and on reflex the Ascian's arms came around her to help support her as they floated in mid-air. "You grew on me like a _fungus_. That's how I know that it's _me_ that likes _you_ like that, that I wasn't influenced by anything. Thinking about all that past stuff, about _her_ past, that's all over my head. Yeah, sure, there's times when the Echo punches me in the face with memories of someone else's happiness or sadness, but I've always been pretty upfront and honest about living in the now. Meeting you didn't _change_ that."

* * *

He was trying ever so hard to weather the glares from the gathered Scions. Feeling the way the Warrior's shoulders silently shook with laughter, a grin doubtless hidden behind her mask certainly wasn't helping matters. 

"You _let_ her walk around, with a broken leg." Alisaie had her hands on her hips and was staring him down. He decided to try diplomacy. 

"Yes, well, pray tell how would _you_ have convinced her otherwise? You _do_ know who we are talking about, yes? 'Tis nigh impossible to turn her from her chosen path once she has become determined to chase it. Remarkably similar to the way a tick would burrow deeper with every attempt to remove it." His voice was a lilting drawl, and he caught the way Urianger reached to lay a hand on Y'shtola's shoulder to stall whatever she had been about to snark out. Surprisingly, the conversational gap was filled by _Thancred_. 

"He has a point, you know. Remember after that first fight with Zenos? He practically disemboweled her, and you had to lace her brandy with enough sedatives to knock an Auroch out. She still managed to sneak out. Twice."

"Hey! I was _hungry_, alright? And the watered down broth you guys were giving me was making me sad." The Warrior raised her hands from where she was bundled up under his arm the way Alphinaud had been. The end of his coat dragged along the ground behind them, considering her last act of defiance before he had decided to bodily bring them both back to the Scions had been to put his coat on. The sleeves dangled ridiculously, overlong for her as they were.

"Why, Thancred, I never thought I would live to see the day you spoke in my defense." The Ascian lifted his free hand to his chest, laying it over the plate armor and gasping softly in mock surprise. 

"Don't get used to it." He scowled at Emet-Selch before turning back to where he was wrapping bandages around his arm. 

"Y'know what I think? I think this means we need to celebrate. War's not over but they're off balance enough that it'll be some time before they recover. Gotta pick a new Emperor, and all that." The Warrior stretched idly like a cat in his grasp, letting the cuffs of his coat drape across the ground. "Noble Steed! Bear me away to where we might find booze!"

The Ascian settled his free hand on his unoccupied hip, staring down at her as the Warrior blinked innocently up at him. "_Noble Steed?_ Do I _look_ like your Yol to you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's impossible to ride my Yol the same way I'm planning to ride you, y'know. Beak sort of kills it for me."

He couldn't help but laugh at the mix of disgusted and disgruntled looks and exclamations that the Scions sent their way, and as Y'shtola lunged forward he snapped his fingers to them both fall backwards into a rift.

* * *

"Oh wow, where are we?"

"Did you think I somehow lacked a home of my own on this Star?" He idly set her down, letting her hobble and limp her way along until she got to the couch. "I will admit, however, that we _are_ in Garlemald. I would advise caution should you wish to go outside. We are somewhat removed from the Capital, but you would not be the first to try and climb that fence to see what might lay beyond."

"So are these rooms that Elidibus is going to find us in or...?" She sat down, starting to gingerly work off her boot so that she could survey the damage done. Her ankle was swollen and bruised, but as she probed at it she nodded to herself. "Rolled, maybe sprained but not broken. Good."

"No. Considering how I generally avoided the other Ascians and prefered to work on my own, I needed to devise methods with which to either hide my presence or otherwise repel their ability to determine where I was." Emet-Selch started the laborous process of shedding his armor, wishing to be rid of it after having spent so long practically trapped in it. "From what I understand, it works in a similar fashion to your Blessing of Light did for the Waking Sands."

"Wait, then how did you teleport us in here?"

He made his way over and reached for the coat, jingling the metallic lattice that hung like a decoration over her breast. "'Tis poor form, to devise a lock to which there would be no _key_. He may be aware of the space, but he can neither see nor follow within."

"Man, how strange to have a _home_." She reached up, removing her mask and peering curiously about. "I've got an overwhelming urge to get up to mischief now. Not destructive, just like... Find your underwear drawer and see if you have any pinups of erotically posed Garlean ladies."

"What do you mean, _strange_, You have-" The Ascian paused, contemplating the Warrior as she smiled sadly at him. "... You don't, do you. Everywhere you travel, a place is prepared for you. Of course, the Rising Stones has quarters set aside for you, but sparse as they are..."

He trailed off, thinking about her desk. Nothing personal decorated it. Everything she personally owned she seemed to carry. When she needed supplies, she asked for them and they were delivered to her. The only thing she'd had a stash of was _booze_, and that was mostly just because she had brought a few spare bottles with her from the bar that the Scions base was fronted by. Weary wanderer indeed.

"Never made sense to rent an apartment, considering how little I'd use it. What was I going to do, travel the countryside to spend a weekend there in between Primals?" She spread her hands, sad smile growing. "Also, it's not like I get _paid_. Sure I can sell off some things when I need to, but everything you see is all got. There's also the not-small matter of having to abandon things if I ever had to up and move quickly, so I just sort of... Never got into the habit."

"Weeeell..." Emet-Selch sighed as he shed another piece of plate, letting it thump into the carpet. "Provided you refrain from breaking anything and you _ask_ before rifling through anything that glows even the faintest bit, this place _is_ far too large for any one individual..."

"Why specifically glows?" 

"Because as enjoyable as watching you electrocute yourself off a Levin Orb might be, they are an utter _hassle_ to recharge."

* * *

Ankle wrapped, iced and elevated, the Warrior was sprawled out on the couch with one hand behind her head and the other cradling the (by now) largely empty flask she was nursing. In the background, soft music the likes of which she had never heard before played from an unusual looking Orchestration that played wide, round flat disks. Sitting by the low table in an armchair was the Ascian, who was tinkering with some small, mechanical contraption or another. Periodically, she caught him humming along, and she found herself relaxing and idly twitching and wiggling her uninjured foot along to the tunes. 

Everything was peaceful, and she found herself tilting her head so that she could idly watch him. 

She knew he could tell she was openly staring, though he didn't do much more to acknowledge that fact than to slightly tilt his head and slowly quirk a brow. Tiny screws were slotted into their holes, and the delicate looking screwdriver was kept busy as he secured each and every one, pale gold eyes intent on his work. They had both showered and changed into clean clothes, a new set provided by a simple snap of his fingers that were in every way a replica of what she had stripped out of save for the fact that they were clean and lacked the holes from the fight with Zenos. For himself, he had chosen the clothing he had worn on the First, tisking and cleaning the coat with a wave of his hand. 

"Is this type of music common in Garlemald? I've never heard it before."

"In part. I artfully shuffled it into their culture. I rather missed it, from the days of Eld."

"What's it called?"

Emet-Selch paused, pale gold eyes fliting to her and then refocusing on his pet project. "... Smooth Jazz."

"I like it." She smiled at him, and was rewarded with a slight smile in return. "... Y'know, I'm trying to be really good and all, but I've got so many questions that I think I've only been silent this long 'cause I'm not wholly sure where to _start_." 

Emet-Selch felt his smile grow at that, huffing out an amused sound as he carefully laid the project he was working on aside and settled back in his armchair. "I should have made a wager. I knew you would be hard pressed to hold back such a thing as your inherent curiosity. To be fair, you did last an entire two bells, an impressive feat in and of itself."

"It really is. What are you working on there?" She nodded towards the components and pieces he had slowly been assembling. 

"A small clockwork bird. Simply one of countless tiny projects I have taken to filling my time with over the ages." He carefully picked up the body, turning it so that she could see the profile. "It contains a small wind-up motor that will give it the strength to waddle about the floor for a few moments."

She nodded, inspecting it even as he set it back down. "I'm not gunna lie, that's pretty cool. Do you sell them? Give them away to stray kids? No, I can't see you doing that last one, not while you were tempered at least."

"I sold them, periodically. My turn. On the topic of my tempering, whatever did you do with that chunk of white auracite?" He leaned forward slightly, hands gripping the arms of his chair.

"I, uhh... Sort of sent it back with Ryne and the others. I didn't know how everything was going to go, so I thought best get it out of immediate reach to avoid the chance that you might try and break it and get you tempering back. I don't even know if it'd _work_ like that, but that wasn't a risk I was willing to take. I kept meaning to ask you what you wanted done with it, but I'm not the smartest so... That's on me, sorry." She sheepishly looked away, clearing her throat and taking a sip from her flask. 

"Destroy it." 

"Eh?" The Warrior peered at him, blinking as he steepled his fingers together and sighed. 

"I don't _want_ it, and you are correct in that it would be nigh catastrophic should I be exposed to it once more. With it, I would be forced to constantly press the matter of rampant murder, and any progress you have made to convince me that those of the Source and the remaining shards are true and well alive will come undone." Emet-Selch tapped his fingers against his chin. "Should Eldibus come to realize you still have it, he will undoubtedly make the trip and attempt to reclaim it. If I were to be exposed to it, while I would be weakened for a time I possess the strength and knowledge required to survive and eventually rid myself of the effects of the white auracite, leaving me suffused with my absent tempering once more."

She studied him, before a look of relief eased across her face. "I'd worried, you know, about how much you had wanted to be tempered and how much of that was the tempering itself."

"Oh, don't get me wrong Hero. I far preferred the tempering to my current situation. Everything was far simpler." He waved a hand idly, before sighing as his frustration and irritation grew at himself, at the situation and at the circumstances he found himself in. "Ever since that day, I have felt like a traitor to the memory of our people. A _thousand thousand_ lifetimes, and what have I to show for it now? I have, in essence, traded all of my efforts for _you._" 

_(Her pale reflection.)_

She propped herself up on an elbow, watching him with a slight frown. There were _words_ there that she could feel, but not hear. Words from the past, from a conversation with Lahabrea as the Speaker mockingly mentioned just who he had seen, words that her Echo was catching the edges of as the air was filled with a sense of _listening_.

"However, for the time being at least, I am content with this. This-" He gestured between them, eyes partially closing. "-will only last as long as your mortal lifetime, after which I will doubtless resume searching for ways to bring her back. To bring them all back. My lost home. I _am_ essentially immortal, and provided I have the inclination I can always simply begin anew."

_(For now, however, a pleasant distraction.)_

Her frown had eased into an easy smile as the briefest flash of a conversation with Elidibus flit past her eyes, and he blinked. He _knew_ that smile. A quick survey of her aetheric soul confirmed it. Sadness. Bitterness. Acceptance. He opened his mouth to say something but she was already pushing herself up, holding up a hand. 

"Sorry, gotta make a quick run to the loo."

The Warrior turned and hobbled for the window, doing an utterly poor job of lying through her teeth.

* * *

To save herself from having to awkwardly hop, once she exited through the window she pitched forward into a handstand and curled her legs over her head. It looked ridiculous, she bet, but hey, maybe he'd at least get a chuckle out of it. It kept her weight off her ankle, if nothing else. It wasn't like he lied. Twisted the truth, maybe, but that wasn't important. No, what was important was the way the ground was bitterly cold and lined with frost. She had to be careful how she placed her hands, and to make sure she didn't linger too long in any one spot. 

There, a pine tree of some kind. There was always room under the boughs of that sort of tree for a person, and while the shed pine needles might be uncomfortable for the time being it was hardly the worst place she had picked to hide away from the world in. Besides, it wasn't like she could hid her aether. 

_("This-" He had gestured between them, eyes partially closing. "-will only last as long as your mortal lifetime...")_

Yeah, she'd seen _that_ one coming. Seeing the slap didn't stop it from _hurting_, it just made it easier to plaster an unphased smile over whatever expression she would have otherwise made. She curled and shifted her weight down onto her good foot, the other one held up off the ground as she wormed her way through the branches that hung low enough to cover the ground. Settling into her rump, she carefully folded her good leg and then tucked her injured foot as close to herself as she could without making it scream too badly. 

_(He had found her. Immediately after everything had gone oh so horribly, he had searched and searched and desperately searched, and he had found her... And he had lost her all over again, in the worst ways.)_

The Warrior reached for her flask, and realized she must have left it inside on the couch. That left... Bleck. It was filled with water. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree, and dug the palms of her hands into her eyes, trying to ignore the visions and scenes that painted themselves across her consciousness.

She wasn't anywhere near drunk enough for this.

* * *

Hades sat in the living room, staring at the open window. The shutters swayed slightly with the heat that escaped the building, and cold air had quickly come to replace it. 

He hadn't _said_ anything that should have upset her. They both knew the ugly truth that the slow and steady march of time would bring. She _would_ die, either by the hand of strife or time. Did she expect him to mourn her as deeply as-?

No, that wasn't it. Her Echo had shown her something, undoubtedly. Something relevant to the conversation. He thought back to the moment her expression had changed. 

Well, nothing for it. He would simply have to make his way out to the tree he could feel her huddling beneath, and ask. Pushing himself up, he made his way to the window, clambered easily out and shut it behind him so that he could turn and amble along, following the hand prints in the frost-laden grass. There, that was the tree. Clasping his hands behind his back, he cleared his throat politely. 

"As much as I might wish to be able to do so, I yet lack the ability to ease your heart and mind without knowing what, exactly, it is that is wrong Hero." The Ascian paused. She hated being called that. Leaning to peer between some of the densely woven branches, he quirked a brow. "Warrior, come now, I know you can hear me. What is-"

"Stop. I can't... Something's wrong. Back up? Ten fulms should do." Her voice sounded strained, and he blinked before obligingly moving back. The tense, coiled mass that her Aether had compacted into relaxed ever so slightly. "... Fucking-... Shit. Shit -shit- _shit. _I need to get _drunk_ and I need to get drunk _now_."

"As willing as I am to oblige, whyyy...?"

"Echo."

He ahh'd softly and snapped his fingers. Catching the bottle that materialized, he glanced at it and then at the tree. "Are you willing to suffer my proximity for the length of time it takes for me to hand this to you?"

"'Suffer', haaah, you're _funny_."

"Your bribe to me for this had best be what, exactly, you are seeing." Huffing, he pushed the branches aside and blinked at the red-eyed, tear-streaked face that blinked at him and offered the bottle out. She accepted it, and as he pushed his way back out of the tree he heard her pull the cork and take a swig. 

"... It's a very nice rum."

"Thank you. I designed it with you in mind." Retreating ten or so paces, he turned back to keep track of her aetheric presence, watching as it periodically _cringed_. Another few fulms of distance and she started to relax. "... Warrior?"

"Lots of not-good things you and the Ascians were saying. Lots of 'not her's' and pale fragment this, figment and shade that. Coupled with the disdain and dismissive I don't even know what that... Yeah. Just... Not good times. Like eavesdropping on people saying you're a dog, but instead of doing it behind your back they're doing it to your face and just ignoring you're there. Twelve, you _hated_ me."

"I... Resented your existence, yes. I have always struggled with _her_ reincarnations." That explained some of it, but she wasn't exactly the type to bawl her eyes out over things that people had _said_-

"Yeah, I'm the third you've crossed paths with, aren't I. You tried so_ hard_ with that first one..." There was a quiet, muffled sound of sniffling before she sighed. "That broke your heart all over again. 'Cause you didn't understand that she could die again, so when you lost her that time..."

"Warrior, I-"

"Hey, it's-it's hardly your fault. I can't control when the Echo decides to slap me. It's... weird though. It's all... I dunno. I'm seeing all these _bad_ parts of you over the course of a handspan of minutes, and it's not like there was really any trigger for it. Something usually has to be said, or thought about, but..." He watched as her presence cringed again, and slowly backed up another handspan of paces to put his back against the side of his house as she trailed off. They were both silent for a moment, before she grunted. "... Alright, I'm gunna need some help getting up now."

The Ascian slowly approached, pushing through the branches of the tree and reaching down to scoop her up in his arms. She was clutching the mostly empty bottle against her chest, eyes partially closed even as she lolled her head against his chest. 

* * *

The _oddest_ thing happened while she slept. He had carried her into his bedroom, tucked her in, left another bottle of alcohol within each reach and tucked a bucket subtly against the small nightstand. It was only as he folded his arms and leaned against one of the posts that held the canopy and curtains above the mattress that he caught sight of it. His Warrior had rolled partially, sighed, and then... _emptied_. Not physically, of course, and if he hadn't been watching her soul for signs of distress he wouldn't have caught the brief moment that it twisted, curled inwards and then vanished. It left him blinking at the vessel as the bottom of his stomach dropped out of him. 

A quick check of his defenses confirmed they were all in place, and he had hustled back into the room to double-check for a pulse. 

Still alive, unnerving but still alive. He sat down on the edge of the bed, dithered for a moment and then flopped back with a sigh as he abandoned his body and threw himself into the ambient aether. -There-, _there_ was the tether, the link and the line. It led... Out. Out among the stars, out to-

He _balked_ at following it too far. Already the ambient aether was starting to mix poorly with his own. Light based, but not as blinding nor as aggressively hostile as the essence of the Lightwardens, but still. It was like stumbling through a patch of poison ivy. It _itched_. 

What in Zodiark's name was her soul doing out in the middle of Hydaelyn's expanse-

Oh. _Ohhhh_. 

He grit his proverbial teeth, wrapped his aether tighter to better buffer himself against the light, and cautiously eased onward.

* * *

_<<He will betray you again. He is the Architect of the End, bound by oath to try and revive the fallen people of a civilization long passed.>>_

"Yeah, so I've been told. Look, I already fixed his tempering! I _get_ it, you've _met_, you think he's a horrible, terrible person, but I have to at least _try!_ I've punched _every_ primal you've pointed me at. I've saved the bloody First, and I've pointedly ignored raking you over the coals for sacrificing Minfillia, so unless you suddenly want me to _retire_ then stop bloody MAKING MY CHOICES FOR ME!"

_<<He does not love you->>_

"IIII DON'T CARE!!!" She flailed at the giant crystal. "What's the WORST he could to me, _kill me__?_ With the Echo you've stuffed into me, fat chance that's going to-"

_<< You are unwelcome here, Servant of Zodiark.>>_

"Stiaaahhh... What?"

Hades had wrapped himself as tightly about his core as he could, four glowing eyes barely visible from where they peered over the collection of masks he hoarded to himself, arms tight about his form as he slowly drifted forward. For all the power he hugged defensively and tightly to himself, coming into Her presence made him feel particularly small. A single mote of darkness, floating on a sea of light. The lives and power of countless of his people, shaped by _her_ will...

She even _sounded_ like her. 

He had a lot of mixed feelings at that moment, though as the Warrior drifted over to him at the forefront was bafflement at the anger she fairly radiated and the glare she leveled on the Primal before them. 

"Hydaelyn, I swear to you now that nothing will make your worry of my turning against you true faster than _tempering_ him. You _know_ my stance on people's will being twisted like that. I will make it my _personal_ _goal_ to bring Zodiark back and tear you asunder _myself_."

_<<Your fear, is unfounded my Child.>>_

"Same thing goes if you do _anything_ to him in front of me" The Warrior turned, reaching out to lightly brush her aether against his, and he was struck by the ridiculousness of the situation. For her to be threatening Her was the greatest of ironies. At least the bitter wrath that had suffused the Warrior had settled, replaced with concern and curiosity. "... Hey, yeah I guess I must look like I'd died or something."

**<<Imagine my surprise to find you championing me to the Primal that->>**

"Time and place for everything. I'm sure she knows how you feel about her, and pissing her off in her own domain when you're all curled up like that's probably not the best idea." She studied him, humming quietly. "Man, this must be horrible for you to endure." 

**<<You have _no_ idea.>>**

"Let's not stay here for much longer then." The Warrior twisted about, gradually turning to face the Mothercrystal. "Look, I'ma go back with him now, but... You've trusted me this far, right? I get it, I really do. Zodiark seems to want to keep _eating_ until there's nothing left. You were, quite literally, made to _stop_ that from happening. You _know_ that Echo or not, I can't sit by while people are killed. I've never asked you for anything, but I'm asking now. Give me your trust in this, let me at least _pretend_ I can have something of a normal life. I'm not a weapon, I'm a _person_, and I know that you're literally built to be kind and caring. So be kind. Be caring. Stop trying to show me all the horrible things of the past 'cause it's not like I can go back and stop them."

_<<I have armed you with what knowledge I can, my Child. I have done what I can, and what I must.>>_

"I know, ignorance is bliss and all that. Look, you're tired. _I'm_ tired. I'm pretty sure just being here is making _him_ tired-" It was, but only insofar as keeping his own aether separate from the touch of that horribly brilliant, blinding light, which he'd never admit to having difficulty with. "-and I'd really like to go and sleep. Showing me all of that to help me make an _informed decision_ made me basically want to hurl."

_<<You shall both have safe passage back to the Source. Ascian.>>_

Emet-Selch flinched under the weight of the focused attention that settled on him, drawing his aether a little tighter around himself as he bit back a number of retorts. 

_<<I look forward to seeing what choices you make in the future, now that your will is once more your own. Be they for good, for ill or for all else, they will be choices that you have made freely and fully aware of the consequences of your actions.>>_

A dismissal, if there ever was one. He shifted slightly to glance at the Warrior who was blinking at him and then sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. 

"Yeeaaah, so I don't actually know how to go back on my own."

**<<You are utterly _impossible._ Come along then.>>**

* * *

The Ascian sat up. After a brief bit of finagling with the aetheric version of the key, he had gently returned the Warrior to her body and then let himself sink into his own. 

"I always _hate_ it when that happens." 

She was complaining? Well, that was a good sign at least.

"Yes, I _too_ find myself greatly upset when my _god_ decides to call upon me to chide me for my choice in relationship partne-" His lilting drawl was interrupted as he was toppled with a dramatic oof, whumped upside the head with a pillow.

"Hey! She's got a valid concern! Tempering or not, it's not like you're going to just stop being thankful to Zodiark for doing what he could to save who he could." She propped herself up on her elbows, cringing slightly before laying back down. "... Iii chugged an entire bottle of whatever rum that was on an empty stomach in under ten minutes. Rrregrets~, I have a few~..."

"I highly doubt I could ever convert you to His cause. You oppose the thought of such sacrifice, necessary as it was."

"Well, yes, but actually no. What I oppose is everything currently alive dying. So if we can find out another way, one that doesn't involve rampant murder, then I'm all for it." She lolled her head, watching him tiredly as he pushed himself up and slid the pillow back over to her. "... Man, that can -not- have been easy for you. Any lasting damage?"

"The equivalent of a _rash_ perhaps. I will recover within the next few days. In the mean time, I believe you owe me something." He rolled, hauling himself up onto the bed properly and stretching out next to her with a tired grin. She matched it, shifting to press her lips against his cheek and tuck in against his side, wrapped ankle tucked out of the way. 

"Lest you forget, you owe -me- something too, you know~."

"Go to _sleep_, Warrior." Rolling his eyes, the Ascian grinned slightly as he tucked an arm around her.

She did, but not without snickering.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter reward for hitting 1k hits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'll totally go to bed at a proper time for once and sleep until I'm supposed to wake up. Nooo, I won't haul myself out of bed -early- as the gleeful urge to write dances beneath my skin and entices my heart.  
Who, me? Lying? Nooooooo
> 
> (Gods your comments, kudos and bookmarks are making me want to just do nothing but roll around in people's fanfics, enjoy the works everyone has put forth and then -keep writing-. I love it!)

"Emet-Selch..." 

She was stretched out on the couch again, wrapped ankle elevated and warbling pitifully. She could _feel_ how she was being ignored, and tried again. 

"Emeeet-Seeelch!!"

An aggravated sigh could be heard in the next room answered her pathetic whine, though no Ascian was forthcoming. 

"Haaadeeesss, c'meeere...!"

"Whatever it is that you need, you can _get it yourself._"

"Aww, don't be like that! You were curious too! All _I_ said was that I wondered how it'd look! Surely it can't be _that_ bad!" She grinned at the ceiling, both hands behind her head as Emet-Selch sullenly muttered to himself. "Look, if it's really that bad at least let me help! I'm -really- good with knives! I'll make it even and everything!"

A huff answered her, before the Ascian rounded the doorway and stared at her, arms folded. She twisted so that she could see him better, propped up on an elbow before she pressed her lips together as firmly as she could. 

"You're _laughing_ at me."

"Nn-mh!" 

"Mm-hm." He mimicked her, brows furrowing as he sassily shook his head from side to side.

She couldn't take it. Her composure broke, and she ducked down onto the couch as she clamped a hand over her mouth and snickered. The problem was, after her off-handed remark about long hair, the Ascian had wondered what he might look like with it in his Garlean form. The white forelock remained, the soft plum-purple so dark it looked black remained, but the _shape_ of it...

He looked like an oddly coloured Zenos with slightly less roundness to his cheeks and a marginally stronger jawline. It was easy to see the family resemblance, especially when one looked at their noses, but it was largely in the way their hair fell, pulled somewhat straight by it's own weight. And, after she mentioned that it might look similar, he had of course gone into the other room to get a mirror and see for himself with a great deal of disgruntled muttering. 

His hair was still parted the same way Zenos kept his. He was also definitely pouting, lower lip stuck out just a little bit further than usual. She shifted on the couch, laughing easily and patting the edge of it. 

"C'mon then, let me shorten it for you, back to what it was before."

He dragged his feet as he made his way over, practically throwing himself onto the floor between the couch and the table so that he could sit with his back to her. Shifting so that she could sit somewhat properly, she dangled her mostly-better leg off the couch beside him and produced one of her throwing knives, taking a moment to card her fingers through his hair. 

"So what's the secret to soft hair like this?"

"Washing it."

The Warrior snorted, measuring out what she needed to and gently working the knife across the strands. It was easy enough to keep it even, and she took the time between moments with the throwing knife to simply run her fingers through it to enjoy the texture and idly massage his scalp. "I mean, yeah, not wrong. Record as 'truth guy' still intact. But washing it with what? And if you just say 'soap' I swear I'm going to cut one spot uneven and you'll never know which one it is."

"Spoil my fun... Coconut oil, if you must know." Pale gold eyes were partially closed as his chin dipped as the vessel relaxed, only for him to blink as she reached around with the knife and tapped the flat of it harmlessly against the underside of his chin. He lifted it obligingly.

"Chin up. It really _will_ be uneven if you move your head too much." She ruffled his hair, redistributing his part before resuming her work. "Coconut's good for a lot of things, turns out. I heard it was good for your teeth, too."

"Among other things, yes." Eyes closing once more, he sighed contently as she worked, only to hum thoughtfully. "Well now. When did I start trusting _you_ with knives around my throat I wonder?"

"I like to think it was right after the first time we sparred. 'Cause, y'know, I got really close a few times." More idle locks of hair cascaded down, and she tried hard not to voice the regret she felt for not telling to get a towel or something so that it didn't get all over the place. Still, an idea was floating around her brain now.

"You did." He admitted, recalling the first fight. "'Tis the spinning. You are so devilishly _quick_ to do so, and have an inexplicable ability to reverse your momentum. Do you not get dizzy?" 

"Y'know, half of being drunk all the time is being able to stand straight while the world spins. Yeah I get dizzy after a bit, but that's never stopped me from walking straight." She finished with the major work, running her fingers through the strands to shake loose anything that lingered and to make sure she hadn't missed any of the obvious length before nodding slowly to herself and evening out a spot here and a spot there. Reaching past hisface, she tugged lightly on the strands to make sure they lined up with where they were supposed to, smirking at how it bounced back up with that tiny bit of curl to it. "There. Done and done." 

The Ascian held up the mirror, tilting his head from side to side slightly as he studied her work only to angle it so that he could watch her behind him as she smiled and gathered up the longer strands of hair, laying them out across her thigh.

"Architect, I would have words with you."

He quirked a brow as she avoided his reflected gaze. "Well, 'tis an improvement over asking me to make you a _sandwich_. What words would you have with a Master Crafter of Eld?" 

She carefully gathered up the hair after she finished laying it out neatly, white paired with white and dark paired with dark, scooped into a neat bundle and tied off the end so that they remained so. Offering it out over his one shoulder solemnly, she leaned forward over the other so that she could nuzzle her cheek against his, watching them both in the mirror now. Her cadence changed, voice softening with sadness.

"I have brought you the hair of one most dear to me, and I fear that ours is a glorious time doomed to failure. Still, I would try this thing, but I would wish a token to recall him with. Please, Architect, make me something to forever remember him by?"

_("Architect."_

_He answered with a grunt, annoyed. She only ever used that title when she _ _-wanted- something, after all. He looked up from his desk, from the paperwork he was doodling in the margins of as he put off actually reading the words on the pages before he paused, seeing what she held in her hands. A chunk of her own crystalized aether. She offered it out, voice softened with shy hesitation. _

_"I have brought you a material of grave import, shed freely for the one most dear to me. I would wish a token for him to recall me with. Please, Architect, make him something to forever remember me by?")  
_

Emet-Selch went very still. It _couldn't_ have been a coincidence, and a cautious press of his aether against hers confirmed the sadness, curiosity and hesitation that coiled through the Warrior. Averting his gaze to the bundle of hair, he slowly reached up to accept it, lowering the mirror and trying to get his vessel to breath around the ache that squeezed his chest. She seemed to understand, and tucked her head into his collar to press slow, tender kisses along the side of his neck. 

They stayed like that for a while, her fingers moving in slow, steady motions against his scalp as he set his jaw and got to work.

* * *

They returned to the rest of the Scions after a week of rest, just to make sure her ankle was fine. It was by the fifth day, but it was also enjoyable to laze around far removed from the threat of responsibility for a time as well, among the other more pleasurable things that they practiced. It was nice to not have to worry about being interrupted, after all. 

"So, what've we got?" 

The gathered Scions looked up before Y'shtola slid a map across to the Warrior. "Business back on the First, it seems. With Garlemald scrambling to secure their next Emperor, we expect things to remain quiet on that front for some time. However, Feo Ul sent a message through for Ryne, saying that she's felt something out in the expanse. Thancred has already left to help her and gather what information they can together."

"Good, I'm glad he went. Considering he's basically her dad at this point I'd've been surprised if he hadn't volunteered and leapt at the chance." The Warrior peered at the map of Norvrandt. Leading off the one edge was a dotted line with a circle marked around a vague area and a few question marks, and as she lifted her head to ask about them she met the Miqo'te's glare. "... Something you'd like to say, Y'shtola?"

"I'll leave it at that you have terrible taste and are just _asking_ for trouble."

"Is it the scarf? It's the scarf, isn't it. I know, it's new, but I kinda like it." She grinned cheekily, tucking her face into the white and almost-black, plum coloured garment, rubbing her cheek against it's softness. Behind her, the Ascian cleared his throat. "Right. The First. I'll focus. So what's the deal with the question marks? Just marking where we think it might be?"

"More or less." Alphinaud stepped up, tapping the map in a few different places along Ahm Araeng. "Ryne went back and forth along the wall to see if she couldn't figure out more of a specific direction. The problem is that we just don't know how far out it is beyond 'very' and we're not even sure what it might look like when we do."

"So pack a lunch when we go and check it out. got it. Are you coming with us, Emet-Selch?" The Warrior turned to peer at the coat-clad Ascian, who unfolded his arms and stepped closer. Reaching out, he adjusted the scarf and smirked. 

"As if I would ever let you go quietly into the blinding light. You _will_ need me, before the end."

"I never said I don't need you now-"

"Ugh! Get a _room_!" Alisaie threw her arms into the air, and the Warrior snickered. 

"Feo Ul! Dearest, sweetest branch in all the realms! Let the Exarch know he can start summoning me! I've got a treat for you, beautiful {Madbloom}!"

The faerie's voice squeed into existence, and the Warrior stepped away from the Ascian before grinning at everyone gathered. 

"See you lot on the other side."

And then she was gone. 

* * *

"Ryne! It's good to see you, how've you been?" The Warrior scooped the former Oracle into a hug, rocking them both a few steps as the girl delightedly threw her arms around her in return. 

"Busy! We've all been working so hard to get everything settled, and there's still so much more to do! I've been making candles! I made one for everyone." They separated, so that the girl could dig through a pouch and offer out a candlestick. It was an off-grey, with bits of plant matter trapped within it, and the Warrior gasped and cuddled it to herself with a gleeful sound of happiness.

"Ohhh it's a -smelly- candle!" She sniffed it, smiling contently even as her eyes watered from how pungent it was. "Oh man, this is gunna be -so- useful! I'm going to plant it just outside someone's room and it's going to be just the _best_ time ever!" 

Ryne giggled, before shifting her weight from foot to foot, grinning widely. "The Exarch told me you'd need some time with the Faerie King before we could get down to business so that you could give them your 'gift'. But... What is it that you're going to give them? I don't see any packages." 

"Why, only the _best_ gift any mischievous immortal being would want, Ryne!" The Warrior neatly tucked the candle away, gleeful grin turning impish. She raised one hand, as if making a declaration while the other was tucked onto her hip.

_"Saucy gossip!"_

And then she was off, waving goodbye to the former Oracle and scrambling up the side of the building to find a perch she liked so that she might pay her bribe in peace.

"She's not wrong, you know." The soft whisper of sound announced the closing of the rift the Ascian had stepped through, and he heaved a sigh. "Best I refrain from interrupting them. The last thing I need is something as long-lived as myself getting it into their head to make _me_ the butt of their jokes and pranks, and with the Warrior with them 'tis just what would happen."

"Um... H... Hello, Emet-Selch." Ryne shifted, nervously, clasping her hands in front of herself. 

"-Please-, I'm hardly going to bite, child. At least, not _you_. Come, let us head to the Exarch, and you can fill me on what I've missed in the time between our dear Warrior's return to the Source and today."

Ryne nodded, and together they ambled along.


	15. Pocket Mechanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly fun to write, regardless of the racey material at the end that I could get fired for if I get caught.  
What can I say, the element of danger makes hit all the more -fun-.

"Well now, _there_ is a sight for sore eyes." 

The Ascian stalked forward, holding a hand out to run it along the skyslipper as a small nostalgic smile played with the corners of his mouth. 

"Truly, they don't make them like they _used_ to. And what is this? Unusual modifications..." Leaning down, he settled onto one knee so that he could peer below the floating construct, cooing in delight and tisking in turns. 

"Well, if nothing else we're not going to have to worry about breaking down in the middle of nowhere. I should really introduce him to Cid and Nero properly some time." The Warrior grinned, turning to Thancred. "Everyone packed and ready to go?"

"Just about. I swear, I've never seen Urianger come so close to pouting when he realized he wouldn't have quite enough room for everything he wanted to bring. I think it's a Circle of Knowing thing, trying to bring enough instruments to analyze everything from the moisture in the air to the changes our sweat after we've been somewhere for long enough." He shared a grin with her as she snorted, knowing sweat wasn't the word he had wanted to use. With Ryne around, though, everyone was back to trying to moderate their language as best they could. Glancing back at the Ascian, his expression fell into a scowl. "Of course, he could have brought more if we left a certain something behind."

"You're _right,_ you're absolutely _right_. I should go and dig out the Exarch's _sandwiches_ and eat them all before we go. That would _totally_ make so much more room." She drawled, patting the air as the gunblade rolled his uncovered eye. "Look, I know you don't like it, you don't like him and you don't trust him. What's he gunna do, _kill_ me?"

"That isn't the least bit funny and you know it, Warrior." He narrowed his eye at her, glancing between them and tucking in closer to murmur quietly. "Does... He know, about that?"

"I dunno. Probably not. Depends on what Elidibus told him about the Warriors of Darkness he dragged to the Source and if any of the Ascians were even watching that fight." She scrunched her face up as she matched his volume, glancing to Urianger and then darting her eyes to the Ascian who was humming contently and poking around the hovering craft. The elezen gave the barest nods in reply and went to engage Emet-Selch in conversation about the contents of the box he was carrying. "It's not like I can just _tell_ folks about that."

"So, even _you_ don't trust him completely-" 

She punched him in the shoulder, hard, sending him staggering aside and rubbing at it with a grumble as he ambled back. "Come off it, Thancred. He swore on his Garlean name, his Ascian name and his _actual_ name that he wasn't going to let me die against Zenos. These things have weight, y'know? I'm about as good as _you_ are when it comes to feelings, and I don't have to throw the name of a_ certain person_ around to prove it. We can't all have your wholesome taste in partners."

He shot her a withering glare at that, which she countered by folding her arms and quirking her brow. "He's very literally told us his sole purpose is to kill everyone on the shards, force them all to rejoin with the Source and then kill everyone on the Source so that he can bring his people back to life."

"He knows that won't exactly work. We talked about it, and he didn't _say_ as much but that little bit of hope went out and he went all listless and silent for _hours_ until I aggravated a rise out of him. And you _know_ how much he loves the sound of his own voice, so it clearly hit him _hard_. It's why I invited him to follow me along on the pretense of his wager that I couldn't contain the Lightwarden's combined power. He's still doing that thing where he sits and stares at nothing like he's seeing it all burning down around him again from time to time." She unfolded her arms to settle her hands on the pommels of her black blades, smoothing her thumbs down the hilts. "He was _listening_ when I'd mentioned the Ananta tribe the first time. He's smart enough to have known that what I said was true, tempering didn't make him an idiot. He wanted to _die_ in his recreation of Amaurot."

Thancred remained silent for a long moment, eyes narrowing as Emet-Selch dusted himself off and started over towards the pair. The Gunblade stepped aside to pass him, heading for the skyslipper as Urianger packed the last of the boxes and closed the compartment. "... I'll leave you do it, then, but _I'm_ driving."

"Maybe you can take turns if you get tired!" She grinned as he waved a hand dismissively, before turning to face the Ascian as he came to a stop beside her. "You actually -can- fix it if it breaks down in the middle of nowhere right?"

"I _designed_ that manner of craft, my little Monster. Though, 'tis honestly meant more for pleasure-riding than long trips, it should suffice well enough. It appears to be missing a seat however." Almost idly, Emet-Selch stretched his arms over his head and then dropped them to his side, heaving a dramatic sigh before glancing over at her with a playful grin. "Whatever shall we do?"

"That's alright." She nudged him with an elbow, matching his expression. "I brought my own."

"We're all ready to go here." Thancred leaned over the side to help Ryne climb up. Moving to the driver seat, he gestured for her to sit in the seat behind his, which she did with a nod. Urianger was next, climbing easily over the side and managing the length of his robes well enough that nobody was accidentally flashed, though Emet-Selch still huffed and held a hand over the Warrior's eyes. 

"Oh come off it. I already know what underwear he's probably got on. Traveling constantly with people tends to break down the social barriers that way." Still, she waited patiently for him to remove his hand before she clambered up the side of the skyslipper and stepped aside so that he could climb up after her. 

"Should I oogle every voluptuous woman that crosses our path then?" Adjusting his coat, he sat down and held his arms out, pulling her back against his chest as she settled onto his lap.

"And the men. Maybe we can compare notes. Though, if you're feeling threatened by -Urianger- then I should let you know he's off limits anyways. He's still mourning. Something you have in common." She shot the elezen an apologetic look, and it was met with a sad smile before the astrologian looked out over the side of the craft. "Sorry. I try not to talk about it, but telling him straight and square's the best path in this."

"I understand, Warrior. Fret not, I would not hold such against him 'lest he decided to constantly pick at this wound my soul yet bears." 

"Ohh, I remember now, you mentioned her before. The brave soul that was Nabriales' demise. My condolences, Urianger. While it may be of little consolation, at least she will forever be remembered as one of the select few who have slain an ancient, immortal being bent on the destruction of the Source." Emet-Selch sounded sincere, thinking about what he knew and what he had gathered, and the elezen simply hummed in response as Thancrd adjusted his seat and some of the controls. 

"Well then." The Gunblade grasped the wheel with both hands, and took a deep breath. "Let's hope the brave folks at the Crystarium knew what they were doing when they fixed this thing." 

* * *

She was doing squats off to the side, bored and trying to keep busy as Thancred climbed some of the nearby rocks with a Ryne and a looking glass. Urianger had opened one of the compartments to recover a meter of some kind and sandwiches for everyone, while Emet-Selch...

Well, only half of the reason that the Gunblade had taken girl with him was because she could sense what direction they needed to go. 

"-lousy, half-baked, hare-brained _patch_ job! Of COURSE the **<<kako>>** line would break, if nobody SEALED the damn thing properly!" The Ascian was head and shoulders into the skyslipper, flickers of red lighting the engine from the inside as his mask came and went. It was interesting, listening to the way his voice would rumble and vibrate through the air as his essence flared and magnified it. Swirls and whorls of darkness were gathering about him as he hammered away at something inside the frame. "Whatever **<<malakas>>** that decided t'would be a BRILLIANT IDEA to use _vitrum_ for a channel ought to get_ **SHOT!**_**"**

"I shouldn't have said anything about it breaking down. I think I jinxed it. Oh hey, a sandwich. Thank's Urianger." Still doing squats, she popped up, snagged the sandwich, and then went right back at it. "There's a path around the side of those rocks there that should take you up to the top." 

"I shall travel thence and bring these to our companions." Turning to go, he paused as she reached out to tap his elbow before he got out of reach.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, for all the shit you do to help me? Thanks. It means a bunch. Aaand if there's anything you ever need me to do, just let me know, yeah? I'm serious." She beamed at him, pausing long enough to take a bite of the sandwich before resuming her exercises. "I'd've been sunk without you a while ago. I couldn't have made it this far without you."

"While we are of many bloods, peoples and origins, we have come to be of one family. Without your support, I would have been lost to the depths of despair and grief, ne'er to resurface again before my time was cut short by the wasting sickness of heartbreak. Without you, our goals as Scions would have remained impossible. If there is aught within my power to aid you, 'tis good as done." The astrologian smiled slightly, before turning to head off. 

Emet-Selch hauled himself out of the engine, fuming and raking a hand back through his hair as he considered his options, glancing over and relaxing marginally as she offered out the tomato, lettuce and bacon-laden sandwich she had taken a bite out of. After a moment of contemplation, he leaned down to take as big a bite out of it as he could. 

"Yeah, I rage-eat too sometimes. Usually when I can't hit things, and only because I'm drinking heavily at that point. How long before you can fix it?"

"Mmph." He chewed for a moment and swallowed, clearing his throat as he stripped off his dirt smudged gloves. "As _hindering_ as the ambient light aether that saturates everything is, an hour or so. It interferes with my own, which in turn causes my creation magic to become unstable. Though, 'tis nowhere near as bad as when we were within Her presence."

"Would I be too distracting if I talked to you while you did? Not gunna lie, seeing you at work is a view I like and even seeing you curse and swear is... I dunno. It's like I don't have to put any effort towards getting a rise out of you to get you to be colourful, vibrant and alive." She took another bite of the sandwich, and offered it back out to him as he quirked a brow and obligingly took it. 

"Ahh yes. I expect you would rather I do this _shirtless_ then, with a wrench in hand. Sweaty, grease-smudged, with my hair matted against my forehead..." A smirk curled the corner of his mouth upwards as she dramatically leaned back and fanned herself. 

"Well, when you put it like -that-... Yeah. Harmelss steam billowing in the background and all." She snickered as he waggled his brows and finished the sandwich. "Think I'd be able to keep up with a description of the problem?"

Emet-Selch cleaned some of the mayonnaise from his face with a thumb, studying her for a moment before pulling his gloves back on and gesturing for her to lean in with him and pointing at some parts of the interior. "Do not touch here, here, or here. They take _forever_ to cool, but the heat dissipates harmlessly out the bottom of the craft. See these lines of plated gold here?"

She did, following where he pointed and squinting. "Covered by some sort of crystal?"

"Just so. Look now, to here, where it has run all over the place and bare. It also should be, but whomever refurbished this craft decided to use vitrum instead. Unable to withstand the heat of the engine itself, it melted and ran down the inside to here, which caused the gold plating from here to there to melt." The Ascian scowled, staring at the inset line and the partially scraped off gold that drifted and hung in a partial, thin ribbon.

"Vitrum?"

"Glass, essentially. While some types may be used for such a thing, the engine quite easily maintains a temperature that only specific types and mixtures should be even considered, and for a prolonged journey such as ours should then be discarded as an idea. He huffed, sliding the chisel from where he had tucked it between a component and the wall, tapping and chipping at the glass that had run down the side and as well as where some had dripped down and pooled onto the engine itself. 

"So to fix it, you need to use your creation magic to produce the crystal needed, and some way to re-melt the gold so that it runs through the grooves it was set into?"

"And you _doubted_ you could keep up. I don't suppose you have some of your standard greaser, do you?" He paused in his efforts, eyeing her thoughtfully. She grinned at him, happy to help.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"_That_ will help admirably. How much does it vary from the sustain of your greaser plus?" He shifted so that he could twist and resume almost delicately scraping at some of the melted gold. 

"How long does it burn? It goes slower than the plus, though it depends on how thick the layer is. For a droplet on your finger, a few minutes at most. Thumb-sized dollop? Ten. Best I've ever gotten out of it is half a bell for a half-inch thick layer, anything deeper than that and it wants to spread out too much, and I've never tested it that thick in a small enough space to prevent it from doing that." She shifted back, pulling the peach-sized flask from her belt and hefting it a few times. 

"Fairly impressive sustain for lesser version of Allagan fire. Pass it here." He stuck a hand out in her direction, and she obligingly settled it into his grasp as he studied it and then the inside of the vehicle. "... Do be a dear and begin unpacking the vehicle, will you? I shall have to tip it onto it's side so that our efforts remain stationary, instead of dripping down the inside of the vehicle."

"Allagan fire?" The Warrior turned, getting to work as she opened the compartments along the skirt of the vehicle and started hauling boxes out. Mindful of the potentially delicate components within them, she stacked the lighter ones atop the sturdier, heavier boxes. 

"Yes. Although the potential for a weapon was there, it was more often used for light and atmosphere when fire was needed, due to how it was nigh impervious to rain. Weaponry had largely advanced beyond the need to use it in combat by the time they had the formula down pat." He was chipping and hammering away at the solidified glass, and muttered under his breath for a moment before he continued. "A single dollop the size of your thumbnail held the potential to burn for up to four bells, and burned with a heat and brightness equivalent to a torch."

"Man, it's good to have alchemy goals again. Now I know it can do that, I've gotta brush up on my skills to figure it out." She grinned as she continued to move boxes, closing the compartments that were empty. She paused as something clanged from the engine and he let out a curse that resonated through the air with what she was starting to affectionately consider his 'aether-self voice'. "All good?"

"I _missed_ and may or may not have accidentally punched part of the _very hot_ engine block."

"Did you dent it? If so, is it bad?"

She could hear the contemplative tone to the silence, before he finally grunted.

"No. Cosmetic damage only, thankfully. I am surprised however that you ask after the engine and not _me_. I thought you _cared_."

"What? I _do_ care, I just know you're tougher than that. That'd be like me walking into a pole while I'm drunk. I'd be _fine_ but the pole might not be doing so well." She snickered, closing the last compartment and coming around to the front as he hauled himself out from under the hood, shaking one hand. There was a black scorch mark across the back of his glove, and she reached out to snag it and carefully peel it back to inspect his knuckles. Slightly red, but otherwise unharmed. The Warrior brought them to her lips to kiss them anyways and then let go of his hand, smiling easily. "See? You're fi-"

His lips crashed into hers as his arm hooked around her, pulling her flush against him as he interrupted her. Muffling her snicker against his mouth, she tucked one hand on his hip and settled the other on his shoulder, eyes closing for the long moment that he drew out the kiss and then blinking up at him as he leaned back to catch his breath and _stare_ at her, pale gold eyes intense. She licked her lips, grinning up at him. 

"What'd I do to earn that, and how do I do it again?" 

The Ascian huffed out an amused sound, closing his eyes and ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers. "_Why-ever_ would I ruin that mystery? Far more amusing to watch you puzzle it out, my little Monster." 

"Fine then. What's next?" She was smirking now, teasing him, daring him to say anything that wasn't tied to the repairs of the vehicle, to which he huffed and stepped away, letting her go as he did so that he could survey under the skyslippers hood. 

"_Now_ I haul this beast onto it's side, and you very carefully light a small fire within it."

* * *

"What in the name of the Twelve are you two doing?" Thancred stared at where Emet-Selch's body sat off to the side, arms folded and looking for all the world like he was asleep as the aetheric monster his essence took the form of cradled the skyslipper between the two massive, taloned hands and kept it tilted on it's side The Warrior was lit by the light of the fire she had set, patiently keeping the gold from running all over the place by way of one black blade and the chisel that the Ascian had been using against the glass. 

"Fixing the thing! Alright, it's all lined up."

**<<Good. Now for the _boring_ part.>>**

She backed out of the engine block, holding the burning black blade level so that the burning greaser didn't run off and get everywhere and turning her masked face towards the others. "See anything up there?"

"Some bloody big _monster_ coming out of thin air, but then I realized it was just _him_." The gunblade jerked a thumb towards the Ascian's unconscious vessel, scowling. 

"Oh for fu-" her masked face twitched slightly towards Ryne. "-udge's sake, Thancred, did you happen to have a better idea for how to roll the skyslipper so that I could melt gold into lines inside of it? Did you want to brace it with Urianger and me and get the _worst_ kind of baked as the heat exhaust pumped out across us? It's not like his essence is a giant _dingdong_ that's gotta be constantly hidden or covered up to abide by the rules of society. He could turn the thing and hold it for however long was needed, so that's what he's doing."

He didn't have an answer for that, and his sullen glare as he folded his arms said as much. 

"It's all of _fifteen minutes_. Think of it as a more wraith-like Ysayle-Shiva thing. At least he doesn't have his nip-nops practically hanging out and his form doesn't have a one-piece disappearing into the crack of the abyss." She ignored the way he grunted in exasperation at that, turning to look at where Ryne was staring with wide eyes. "You good?"

"I remember... The last time we saw him like this..." Trying not to be rude, she stepped a little closer and looked up to study the Ascian. "The last time we saw _you_ like this, there were reddish crystals all over you from where the others had tried to... To solidify you. Are you... Are you alright?"

**<<Quite fine, actually, aside from the accursed ambient aether. 'Tis no more aggravating than an itch, however, but **_thank_** you for your ever so kind and considerate** **concern.>>**

She smiled slightly up at him, clasping her hands together and nodding. "You... There's still some red crystals but you look... Umm..."

**<<As much as I _admire_ your attempt at diplomacy, you need not force yourself on my account. I am well aware of your guardian's disdain for Ascians. And who could blame him?>>**

Emet-Selch shifted, drifting as he did to lean down and peer into the exposed engine block to check on the cooling gold before drifting back up. 

**<<Possessed by Lahabrea, crushed, compartmentalized, shunted into a little box from which only great effort could facilitate an escape when coupled with outside interference, I do _not_ envy what he was forced to endure. Despite his constant nettling, however, it is my intent to lead by example and utterly ignore his. For every individual whom proves that they are _not_ in fact, a spiteful ball of childish angst flailing and screaming into the void in a fit of _'poor me, I was wronged by one and thus must hate all regardless of however they may seek to prove themselves different__'_ I intend to reciprocate and prove my intent._>>_**

Thancred glared, and the Warrior snickered even as she idly wove the burning slowly through the air, watching the patterns the fire made. 

"He's got you there, y'know."

"Urianger, back me up on this." The Gunblade turned to where the elezen was sorting through the boxes and pulling out another sandwich. 

"'Tis utterly unwise to speak at cross-odds with not one, but two determined women whom hath set their minds upon a singular goal. While I agree that 'tis folly to trust blindly, there is the matter of his Temperance - now shorn away like so much fleece - and the matter of his _intentions_ towards yon Warrior in addition to her own. I know well the depths to which one will sink for the ones they would truly give their all for, and-"

"Fat lot of good you are." Thancred muttered, shoulders hunching his shoulders and folding his arms as the elezen slowly blinked and fought the urge to roll his eyes at being interrupted. 

"Look, if he decides to screw us all over, _then_ you can tell me you told me so. In the meantime, until he does so, I'm happy to take any and all help he's offering. And everything else." The Warrior flourished the sword a little faster, ooping quietly as a burning glob of the viscus liquid plopped onto the ground and continued to burn. "You _know_ how relentless I get when I'm emotionally hurting. What's he gunna do, leave the Source until I die of old age? It'd be his best bet, but it'd also keep him from being able to cause too much trouble. Win-win, I'd say."

The Ascian gently rocked the car back until it was level once more, releasing it gingerly. 

**<<As enjoyable a pass time as this, some room, -please-? I _do_ need to concentrate after all.>>**

They all stepped back so that he could drift towards his vessel and vanish. There was a moment where nothing changed before his body grunted and he started to push himself up, stretching as he did with a yawn. 

"Wonderful. And now, for the _truly_ taxing part."

* * *

She watched, fascinated, as he slowly dragged an un-gloved finger along the line of gold, staring in quiet awe as opaque, smokey purple crystal formed and grew in it's wake. He as barely moving at more than an inch a minute, and she really -was- trying to be good, to be quiet and not distract him, but his brow was crinkled in a look of intense concentration and his lips were drawn into a slight, thin-lipped frown. He'd been at it for a solid ten minutes now, and she was starting tofeel _stifled_ under the weight of all the unasked questions that were bouncing around her head. 

What type of crystal was that? Was it made directly from his aether? Did he pick that colour? Was he drawing ambient aether or was he using his own? _Could_ he draw ambient aether, if all there was, was light-based aether? Did he realize that his brow was crinkled like that, and made her want to poke him below the third eye? Did he realize how he flared his nostrils when he was so focused? There was sweat beading across his brow. Should she wipe it away? Would he snap at her in that not-good way that meant she had gone too far and was doing a Bad Thing(tm)?

She decided to risk that last one, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket and dabbing at it. His eyes narrowed, but he simply grunted and continued. Thirteen inches. Almost half way there. She was careful not to touch him any more than necessary, mask covering her face to help prevent a stray breath from distracting him-

"Motivate me." The word were ground out from between clenched teeth as he continued. "You're already here, you might as well try and distract me from the blinding, blistering brilliance that is _roasting_ me from below."

"Go team go?" She quirked a brow, before shifting her mask to the side and leaning the last of the distance required to press her lips against his cheek. "You've got this? You can do it? For every three inches I'll give you a kiss, and when you finish I'll even make it a good one?"

He cracked a strained smile, eyes narrowing. "Ahh yes, to harness the power of the libido is a motivational thing indeed. I shall hold you do it then, dear Warrior. I _do_ appreciate your attempt to remain silent, but I can practically feel the way you are vibrating with questions."

"You said you need to concentrate. I remember the Rak'tika Greatwood, where you said just being there was taxing enough that fighting was out of the question. Considering everything's bleached white with the light I'm betting it's basically the same feeling." She tilted her head slightly as he continued dragging his finger along. "Man, you have _no_ idea how badly I want to lick your ear to see if your focus holds."

His pupils dilated at that, even as his nostrils flared. Deciding to push her luck, she leaned back in an let her breath ghost over his ear. 

"Suckle on the lobe, nip along the cusp... Maybe even lick along the pulse-point beneath it..." 

"You... _Witch_..." Still, he hadn't told her to _stop_, per say, so she grinned impishly, slid her mask around to the side and nosed along the edge of his jaw. His hand remained steady as he continued to drag his finger along, though the other that was braced against the edge of the frame was starting to dent the metal. His voice had dropped into a low, sultry growl, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as she tipped her head to nose into the collar of his coat. Ever so slowly, she scraped her teeth across the side of his neck, and he sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly. "I _will_ have my revenge, you know..."

"Ohhh, I don't doubt it." A quick glance to his hand confirmed things were still progressing along steadily, and she smirked impishly against his flesh and then drew in a slow breath, inhaling his scent and letting out a quiet groan. "Twelve above, there's _nothing_ like the scent of hard-fought effort. Sweat before it turns rank, the slight taste of salt that it leaves across the skin..."

He had clenched his jaw, though as she dragged her tongue up the side of his neck to just below the earlobe and caught some of the flesh between her lips, sucking on it he swallowed dryly and narrowed his eyes. She watched his adam's apple bob, letting out a low chuckle as she idly blew across where her efforts had brought into being a red spot. 

"The _first_ chance I get, I'm dragging you away from here and _fucking you into the ground_." The words were growled out, rife with promise and laden with intent. She shivered slightly, hair on the back of her neck standing on end. 

"You gotta finish your work first, and then we gotta find whatever it is we're looking for so that you know where to teleport us back to. Until then, _Hades_..." She breathed his name across his ear, grinning wickedly as he shuddered slightly and reaching up to dab away the sweat that had gathered across his brow once more. "You've got a job to finish, close as you are to finishing it. Feel... _Motivated_ yet?"

The Warrior shifted away as he completed his work, sliding her mask back into place and clasping her hands behind her back so that she could amble away. She heard him shift and suck in a breath even as he felt the burning weight of his stare settle across her back. It was, to her, an incredibly _beautiful_ sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get another Kudos, we'll have hit another benchmark (100!) and I'll have to do something special. Do I smut? Do I fluff? Do I slice of life?  
Lemme know what you all want.


	16. Eden Prime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has a little bit of gore in it. And, close to the very end, a large number of snippits of flashbacks with a little bit more context to them, along with one-liners that, now that greater understanding has been achieved, might come across a little differently.  
Any of these flashbacks contained within brackets are from roughly the same moment. I've done this to try and separate them from the one-liners.  
Also anything between these ~insertexamplehere~ is said over linkshell.

The Warrior was the first to find the core, but... In a way, the Core also found her. So when Ryne called out her warning over the linkshell, she knew that things were going to go badly -really- quickly. The miniature version of the external Eden pretty much made that apparent when it separated two arms out from the central mass. 

"Ehh, I wouldn't worry about it -too- much. I think you're really overstating things, Ryne."

_~But it's- You're all alone!~_

She winced at that. "And? It's alright, don't worry about it. It's weaker than Zenos was."

She was lying, of course, and when Ryne tried to call her on it over the linkshell Thancred barked at her to shut up, saying they were close and that Urianger was too. The elezen simply hummed over the linkshell in response, and as it pulled a spear out of thin air, the Warrior settled into a low, easy stance, removing the linkpearl from her ear and stuffing it into a pouch so that she could draw her swords. 

"Come on then!" She yelled, throwing her arms wide in invitation before scraping the black blades across one another, sending a shower of sparks across the ground. 

It advanced, and she bolted forward to meet it.

* * *

Emet-Selch watched from afar. With the utter suffusion of light across... Well, everything but the sky fighting was practically out of the question. He was already fatigued, and an ache had developed within the very marrow of his vessel's bones that meant that he had already expended everything it was safe to. That it was necessary now for him to settle defensively, pull his defenses close to better stifle the light's effect on him, and do nothing more than watch. 

He didn't like what he could see. 

A mass of light (presumably the light warden, he really should have thought about getting a linkpearl that was attuned to theirs) was clashing the other mass of light that was captured by a faded, washed out hue of impossibly blue -blue-. He had a vague idea as to where Urianger and Thancred were, as well as the girl but at the distance he was at it was harder to pinpoint their individual aetheric signatures, lacking the sheer oomph of the Lightwarden or the Warrior. 

They were nowhere close, though both the gunblade and astrologian were both moving faster than they had been before, the former dragging Ryne along as they seemed to almost scramble. Of course, they would know she was fighting something. Of course they would rush to her aid, they were her companions. Of course-

The Warrior's light flickered. Once, twice, the Lightwarden aether within her struggling and then being restrained once more, and the longer he watched he noted it did so again. 

An ugly feeling began to spread through him, and he grit his teeth before stepping into a rift that would take him right to Eden's core.

* * *

She hit the ground -hard-, bouncing and rolling, leaving a smear of red as she passed before coughing and adding another splotch to it as it dripped out from under her mask. Still red, she thought to herself. Good. She'd worried about that.

That spear swept across, catching her across the side and knocking her clear across the platform. She controlled her landing a bit better, that time, skidding on her feet and diving forward as the silver orbs around the room all began to hum. She could see the suggestion of the path they sought to fire along, and cleared the last of them as they each discharged. 

She took two steps, and got both swords up and crossed as the spear swept across once more, slamming into her and sending her across the platform once more. She staggered, took a step forward-

Pain bloomed through her chest as the spear came down, came through her, and drove into the platform behind her before tearing back and taking her with it. Turning, shaking the spear to dislodge her, Eden Prime slapped her ragged body with the flat of the blade to send her back across the platform once more. 

She collapsed, ruined lungs fighting to suck in a breath of air, failing to as she curled her fingers weakly around the hilts of her blades and started to haul herself back up. Light shimmered across the fatal wounds, a brief flicker with an odd, double-heartbeat that echoed through her head as she spat out her mouthful of blood. Her strength returned in time for her to drop prone, avoiding the next stab and then haul herself off to the side as she felt the orbs around the edge of the room beginning to hum once more. 

-There-. A tiny patch of floor that lacked the red suggestion of pain. Her foot came down on it, and she was surrounded by light that narrowly missed her on all sides. 

She knew what was coming this time. The spear swept across, and this time it caught only air as she abruptly broke into a tumble, coming up and spinning to hack and slash at everything she could reach before she was spinning away, picking up speed when a mote of gravity expanded where she had stood but moments before. 

That had -hurt- the first time. She knew better, now. Being crunched like a tin can once was enough. 

She spun, launching another throwing knife at it and blinking as it vanished. The last time, it had gone to a corner. She found it, and bolted forward, dipping into a slide as the ground behind her was covered in neat squares that had, the first time, practically shredded her. Coming up, she kicked off and leapt to sink both blades into Eden prime's back, swinging her body weight to drag them down and let their applied edges rip through the collected aether. 

The Warrior was grinning so hard that she knew her face would _hurt_ after this, just as much as the rest of her did, but all pain faded in the wake of the adrenaline and Echo that filled her veins.

* * *

He couldn't get close enough. The aether around the two of them was tempestuous in nature and even if he had wanted to risk it, was just as sealed to his probing attempts as it was to the gunblade, astrologian and former Oracle as they gathered at one of the aetherflows that would otherwise have led to the core.

She should be dead. She should have been dead _three times over_. The spear had gone clean through her from behind, and torn out some entrails on the way out as she collapsed, but she simply staggered back to her feet, laughed breathlessly and resumed her attack as a flicker of light set her torso to rights. It wasn't even that she was letting them hit her, she dipped and wove as well as she always did, better even, predicting some of the attacks and moving appropriately. 

The orbs that ringed the room hummed, and she peeled off abruptly and dropped into a slide, the spear swinging harmlessly over her head even as each of the orbs discharged their gathered energy in lines that would have otherwise caught her if she hadn't peeled off the very moment she had. As she came back up, she braced both blades against the heavy strike and grunted as she was hammered into the floor, cracks coming from her legs as blood seeped through her pants. 

They were both -clearly- broken, but her soul flickered and she was up again, running as if there hadn't just been bloodied bone poking a hole through the leather of her boot. She cackled, eyes wide, a manic grin across her face as she coiled those somehow intact legs under herself and leaped, springing up with both blades bared like the fangs of a snake. They sank in, and she used them to stab her way up the torso before it vanished abruptly and dropped her to the floor with an audible grunt. 

It had retreated to a corner, and gathered itself for what was presumably a wide-range spell before she was upon it, skirting around it's form and dragging both of those nasty blades through it's trunk as she did. Black shredding gravity rippled across the platform in bladed waves before it vanished once more, spear raised and she was chasing after it, diving just as it slammed the butt of the spear down. A ripple grew into a swirling, outward expanding vortex that she had come up out of her dive just past the edge of. 

Raising a blade as if to strike, she suddenly twisted, bolting to the side as a gravity well manifested where she had been standing, catching part of the Lightwarden and tearing into it even as she circled around and leaped, clawing and kicking her way up to catch the edge of the shield-like platform on it's back. Perched there, she stabbed and struck and each blow drew a keening shriek from her foe. 

The most fascinating part, he thought to himself, was that underneath the mask... She was grinning. 

It showed in how her aether swirled and danced. It was the same way he had noted his great grandson's aether moved when faced with a new challenge that took more than the barest effort to defeat. She was riding an excited high that bordered on _arousal_, even as she danced out of the way of a nova-blast and was subsequently smeared across the floor by the spear that came across with enough force to leave a streak of blood splattering across the ground in it's wake. 

She pushed herself to her hands and her knees as the orbs began to hum, glanced around and dove to the side. She scrambled the last foot or so on all fours before she stopped and started to stand, the blasts lancing across the ground and leaving her untouched. She was predicting the path that they would fire along, he realized. Impressive, but doubly so when she didn't seem to even look at half of them. 

On some level he was _proud_ of how his scarf was holding up. He understood a bit better now why she had asked him to make sure it was as reinforced and as durable as he could, considering the rest of her clothing hung in tatters about her. It and her mask were the two things she was wearing that seemed somewhat untouched by the violence of their fight. 

"COME ON!" She was throwing her arms out wide, tips of the curved blades pointed downwards as she screamed, the sound viscious and gleeful at the Lightwarden. It answered her challenge by hefting the spear and hurling it like a javelin, and she dove to the side as it plowed into the platform and vibrated in place. Her foe went across to retrieved it's weapon, but she was closer to it. 

She had always been fast. 

She came around the spear, ran up the length, and as it reached out for the weapon she leaped and slammed both blades into it's face. _Through_ it's face, carving two glowing lines down the length of it's torso before she hit the ground and spun away from the blind, enraged swat. it recovered it's weapon, turning to track her before raising the spear. 

She backpedaled, spinning as it came down and that vortex sprang up once more. Each of the orbs hummed into life, and there wasn't any possible way for her to be able to see them. Eden Prime lifted the spear, and as the vortex began to drop she was already charging off through the dissipating, crackling aether and dropping into a slide so that she could haul herself back up and cackled as the orbs discharged. 

A mote flared into existence behind her, and she was already moving, already tumbling forward as the gravity well opened behind her. Eden prime advanced to meet her, swinging with the spear-

She looked almost casual as she leaned back, one leg outstretched to keep her balanced as it swept over her. Caught in two hands, the Lightwarden swept it back, lower this time and she as already upright, leaning forward and kicking off from the ground so that she could tumble and spin in mid-air over it when it scraped sparks across the platform. it came across once more, and this time as she touched down she hopped ever so slightly, and _caught the shaft of the spear._

Not with the force to stop it. That didn't seem to be her intent as she was swept up with the momentum of the strike. She swung and put her back to the haft, sliding down and launching herself from it so that she could land on that domed head once more. Those nasty, aether-severing blades dug in, found purchase, and she punched both of them deep enough that Eden Prime recoiled and keened out a high note of pain. Both blades were wrenched across, removed, and stabbed down again before a roughly square section of it's _skull_ came free. 

The Warrior looked delighted, and plunged both blades down, pressing and leaning as she squelched through grey matter until she was up to her elbows in it. Her foe shuddered, twitching and flinching oddly before it slowly sank to the ground. The tempestuous aether settled, the source of it's disturbance expiring even as the rogue pulled both blades free of the body and slid down to the platform beside it. 

She took a step, turned to survey her disintegrating foe and waited for it to completely vanish before seeming to give herself a once-over. Not checking for wounds, he realized, but trying to determine if her own aether was unstable. Or, at least, if the Lightwardens were about to break free. But no, her vanquished foe hadn't been absorbed into her, it had simply died, as any other sin eater would. 

Relief flickered through her, and she teetered before collapsing backwards. 

The remnants of the barrier that impeded his progress vanished, and he tore open a rift to materialize in the room even as their other traveling companions burst in through an aether channel.

* * *

"And _none_ of you thought to mention she was, effectively, the _other_ kind of immortal?"

She knew that voice. She'd know it _anywhere,_ no matter how distantly it came to her. 

Pain was the second sense that she began to recover. It was everywhere, and she filed that fact away under 'Yep, still alive' even as she slowly worked to open her eyes. They were gummed shut, by her own blood she presumed, and instead worked to curl her fingers. She could feel how they twitched, which was good, because movement meant she could reach up and shift her mask aside with enough effort, which then meant she could wipe her face. 

That flask of water she carried wasn't _only_ for drinking, after all. 

The ground beneath her moved slightly, and a hand found hers. 

"... Mssk..." she mumbled out. 

"See? She's -fine-" came Thancred's voice, the sound clearer as she slowly surfaced.

"Fine? _Fine__?_ In your experience, this is FINE?" The Ascian's voice was hitting octaves she hadn't thought he had in him, practically screeching the last word. It came from close by, and as she was gently shifted once more she thought that maybe, just maybe, the ground seemed softer this time because he might be holding her. 

"... _Mssssk_..." She mumbled out, squeezing the hand that had taken hers gently. 

"Pray, permit my approach. Allow me to initiate you unto her ritual." That was Urianger's voice, and part of her arm hurt more for a moment before she realized that was because it was being squeezed. 

"... S'kay." She tried, swallowing dryly, knowing that it didn't sound anywhere near as reassuring as she might have hoped. Still, Emet-Selch must have allowed the elezen to approach because her mask was being eased off and a cold, wet cloth was wiping some of the congealed blood from her face. Slowly, she blinked first one eye open, then the other. 

Her view mostly included the Ascian's torso and Urianger's hand, and the murderous look the former was giving the latter tickled her, so she wheezed a slight laugh. 

"All she requires is time, Emet-Selch. Her usage of this aspect of the Echo, 'tis draining, in more ways than one. Still, as the rest of the damage heals, she will be slow. Pained. This doth take some few hours to pass. Once it has, she may begin to walk once more. From there, her recovery finds it's completion swiftly."

"All of you _knew_." The words were practically hissed out, and the grip on her arm tightened painfully once more. 

"Ow." 

The pain vanished as pale gold eyes snapped down, studying her face now that the elezen had finished cleaning it. A flask was held above her head, offered to the Ascian who reluctantly relinquished her hand to take it.

"M'kay, Selk."

He made a high, tense sound in the back of his throat as he eased the water to her mouth, tipping her so that she could gingerly take a sip. She did, but only to rinse her mouth out, lolling her head to the side to spit it out to the side. Already she was starting to shift, flexing her fingers and toes, stretching minutely in place. 

"Bleck, water. Alright, 'm up, 'm up..."

"You-"

"Stop. Nupe. Atata. Hald. Seize. Dezist." She slurred slightly, before reaching up to tuck a hand against the side of his face and squinting up at him. "Words're hard. Gimme a moment. An'body got booze?"

Thancred came over, offering out a flask. She used both hands to take it, letting them drop to her chest with the weight of it before opening it and taking a sip to swallow. 

"Thanks. Now, Emet-Selch-" She yawned widely, before snuggling against his chest. "A'right. Comfy. Look, 'm gunna use small words, so don' judge me." 

He sputtered at that, and she squinted up at him. The lines of his face had gone hard and tight with exhaustion and suppressed anger.

"Echo. Mine? Faster. Stronger. Yeah. Memories? Also yeah. Y'know all've that, though." She took another sip, sighing as it burned it's way down her throat and licking her lips. "'Member the monster bit? In the forest? I almost told you then, y'know. But.. How d'you tell someone immortal that you're th' _wrong kinda immortal__?_ I can't _die_. It doesn't _stick_. Least, it hasn't yet. What was I s'posed to do, stab m'self on the lawn at yer house? Tell you not t'panick shoot myself in the head and let you go through that?" 

Slowly, carefully, mindful of the headache that had already started to bloom through her, she shook her head. 

"When I come back, for a lil' bit, I'm -stronger-. -Faster-. Even more than's unnaturally normal. And then? When the fighting's over? That goes 'way and it hits. It _all_ hits, all at once. Used t'take weeks, then it was days, now it's hours for me t'be able to get back up. Hydaelyn's _blessed_ child." She practically spat out the words, lips curling. "Haurchefant died for _nothing_. I'd've gotten back up. Nidhogg _choked_ on me, and spat me back out 'cause I'd started cutting him open from th'inside out. And it's not like I don't _feel_ every death blow. Every scar's one. Bastard Zenos nailed me twice 'cross the exact same spot, first time he killed me in Rhalgr's Reach, second time when the Exarch tried t'summon me."

She took a sip, before grimacing and lifting a hand, scrubbing at her face. "I shoulda told you. Hells, y'might've even believed me if I did, but... It was better, easier to trust you with m'life at the start there when I knew you'd kill me, turn away, and I'd've gotten a chance to get the fuck out've there."

* * *

_She toppled sideways off the branch, unafraid and grinning and holding a bottle of wine in each hand even as he lunged for her, too slow. _

_She was rolling her eyes as he commented teasingly on whether the jerky she was offering might be poisoned. _

_She tucked against his side, against the side of her enemy, against the side of someone who by all rights should have been expected to strangle her in her sleep. She couldn't have known that he was by and large honest, and he had thought her a fool for trusting so easily. _

_"If it's not old age that gets me, it's fighting." She spoke the words callously, tiredly, and he found her lack of fear intriguing._

_He watched her weave through the trees, cutting through sin eaters, unflinching angry and unafraid regardless of how many of them came after her. Relentless. These were creatures she knew how to fight, and she passed the night uninjured, somehow remaining so even as she forged the path for those that she swept up in her wake._

_("I'm very... Violent, right now." Why had she hesitated? She was angry, yes, but there was more to it. He watched her aether carefully as they traded words. _

_"If you run your mouth I really don't think I could take it."_

_"Then don't." How odd, that she should flinch and twitch, fingers curling against the hilt of the blade she was cleaning. _

_"You think yourself a monster for this tendency within you? -Please-, Hero, you have fought monsters." He had thrown his arms wide, gesturing to the world around them before letting them drop. He had said she barely counted. She had started moving at that, crossing the distance as he said she was barely a threat, rattling the curved part of her blade against his barrier. Her grin had been more a feral baring of her teeth as her soul curled and flexed, shifting and shuddering like a beast being roused from slumber.)_

_"You are not a monster. _Never_, a monster." He had caught the way her soul flinched at that, pressing on regardless, and he knew that she hadn't recovered by the time he realized he was talking to a shade of the past and not **her**, not the one that **mattered**..._

_"Can... We talk about that later? It's not that I don't want to, but I've had... Possibly one of the closest brushes with death that I've ever had," she was stunned, surprised and baffled all at once, as if faced with a concept she hadn't thought applied to her and needed time to process the experience._

_"M'comfy. Kill me later."_

_("Hero-"_

_"Stop. Do not call me that." The words were spat out over his shoulder.)_

_"I'm really bad at goodbyes."_

_("What did you do, when that Haurchefant boy died? How did you cope?"_

_"Unhealthily, I'll admit. I drank a lot, fought a lot, and put forth every spare ilm of my abilities towards hunting down the Archbishop." She frowned faintly, before squinting at him. Her aether, her very soul had roiled with unease, regret, sorrow and impotent frustrated **rage** as she spoke, though she kept all but regret and sorrow clear from her voice.)_

_"But you'll be fine, right? With enough time? You'll heal?" Like she did, were the words she choked back. Like she always did. Please, her heart cried silently to itself, don't die. Don't be dying. **Don't leave me alone like everyone else is doomed to.**_

_"That is going to explode. You do realize this, correct?" He had marveled at her control, at the lack of terror, at how patient curiosity suffused her instead._

_"If your vessel dies, you can choose to either go and get one of the clones you mentioned, or slip into someone else right?" Two different types of immortal, two different types of Echo, from what she understood, and maybe, maybe if her body housed him, if the body that could not stay dead could _ ** _protect_ ** _ him..._

_(She had always been fast, but, when properly _motivated_, could reach ridiculous speeds. The flat of one blade was tapped against Elidibus's side, as she came to a very abrupt stop and turned her head to regard him almost casually. The sight was at odds with the storm of rage, of **HOW DARE** that had erupted from her soul, and it was more the overwhelming, protective wrath that radiated out from her in unseen waves that made Elidibus lower his arm than any threat with a sword. Even if the arm was removed, he could just find another vessel, after all...)_

_"After the current crisis then!" Because she -would- survive it, of that there could be no doubt. It wasn't as if she could **die** after all._

_"... You know, there isn't a whole lot I can do to stop you from hating yourself so much that you wanted me to be strong enough to kill you, but what I can do is try and point out that not all monsters are all bad. Look at me, for example."_

_The Warrior was dragging an unconscious Alisaie from the upended skiff with one hand, the unconscious pilot with the other. Of -course- she had fearlessly chosen to dive right into the still-settling explosion as it rocked around the skiff. She could do no other, when the lives of those that could lose them were at stake. _

_"How many of those swears are actually binding?" Not because they had been needed (Alisaie would be getting a talking to later, that little brat. She -knew- that the Warrior would just get back up) but because that he had sworn at all had been unnecessary and she wanted to know what the words meant to him._

_"Because I'm not going to die. You're in for a very bad time though." She had glanced past the Emissary and right at him as he stalked out of his rift, immediately relaxing, because she _ ** _knew_ ** _ that he wouldn't let the Lightwardens overcome her, which really meant that nothing truly bad and lasting would happen after all. Though, there was that slight sliver of worry that coiled through her. Would death release the light-based aether? Hmm, better not risk it..._

_"He has a point, you know. Remember after that first fight with Zenos? He practically disemboweled her, and you had to lace her brandy with enough sedatives to knock an Auroch out. She still managed to sneak out. Twice." Thancred had been utterly resigned, and nobody had been surprised. _

_("This-" He gestured between them, eyes partially closing. "-will only last as long as your mortal lifetime,-"_

_A flicker of amusement coiled through her, before it was snuffed by the way her soul cringed before what he later learned was the Echo.)_

_"'Suffer', haaah, you're _funny_."_

_"-so unless you suddenly want me to _retire_ then stop bloody MAKING MY CHOICES FOR ME!" Retire. She threatened the second oldest primal in existence with her -retirement-. What an odd thing to say._

_"What's he gunna do, **_kill_** me?" The word had been laced with incredulity... And just a hint of longing. _

_"What's he gunna do, leave the Source until I die of old age?"_

* * *

He must have been silent for a long moment, because when he blinked she was pinching his cheek and tugging lightly. 

"Hydaelyn to Emet-Selch, you still in there?"

"Stop that." 

"'Eyy, you came back. Did you go anywhere nice?" She smiled up at him, healthy, physically whole. He wondered briefly if she had ever tried to literally drown herself in alcohol, if she had ever tried to drink herself to death, and huffed out a quiet, amused sound even as he leaned down to gently nuzzle their foreheads together. 

"No. Did I miss anything?"

She cupped the side of his face, relaxing slowly where he still cradled her torso against his lap. 

"Urianger set something up for Ryne to communicate with Eden, but we're giving it another hour. Just in case anything happens, this way I can introduce the problem to the bottom of my boot." She was smiling slightly, ruefully, and he closed his eyes so that he could better watch the way her aether shifted like barely disturbed sediment. It was tense, tightly coiled with sorrow, resignation and doubt. He took the opportunity to huff and tighten his arms around her, cuddling her better against his chest as she let out a surprised grunt. 

"You have not lost me yet, my little Monster. Relax."

She blinked at him, and the relief that flooded her soul was, to him, one of the most beautiful things he had ever see. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all gotta tell me what sort of extra chapter you want. Though, if you squint, this one might (?) be considered somewhat fluff???


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Echo does the thing again

She was up and stretching now. Ryne had tried to give her a set of bandages to preserve what she could of the modesty everyone else thought she should have, but she had declined and said they were just going to get ruined anyways. Besides, her scars just made her torso three kinds of lumpy.

Emet-Selch had insisted, though. 'Three kinds' was a level of stubbornness that spoke more of an air of exasperation and tiredness than pure, outright denial. He was starting to learn what the different numbers meant, and idly mentioned the durability of the scarf he had crafted for her. Not only that, but she could _tuck things_ in between the layers of the fabric, as if they were _pockets_. The thought had caused her to pause, to feel at the new scars that twisted her flesh, at how they overwrote and mixed with the others, and then shrugged before tying the length of cloth around her bust. 

He even helped her, securing it with a knot that would be hard pressed to come undone at her back and didn't seem like it would slip. Still, he couldn't help but think about her utter lack of care about how people looked at her, at the level of comfort she had with the other Scions that she could walk around without giving a damn, practically naked from her shoulders to her waist. 

Finished her stretches, she had started to amble around and try to recover what she could of the things that had spilled from torn pouches and pockets, idly remarking that hey, her pants had held up remarkably well, and what was the fabric again? Nobody knew, but Thancred mentioned Tataru, the one who had commissioned them for her probably would. She agreed, yawned, wobbled and then stretched one final time as the Ascian stalked towards her. 

"Here. This _bothers_ me." He shrugged out of his coat, draping it around her shoulders and starting to fold the sleeves up even as she blinked at him. "What. If we are to do this whole 'relationship' thing, I can _hardly_ have you flouncing around collecting scrapes and scratches. My coat is rather more durable than your elbows, after all."

She had smiled at him at that, and obligingly worked her arms through the sleeves as he finished. "You going to carry the key?"

"Hmm, no. Should you inadvertently lose it I can always craft another, after all. _Do_ mind the length."

"Warrior, are you ready?" The Gunblade was watching them, arms folded, a scowl across his face. "Urianger has finished tweaking what he needed to, so we're about to get started."

"Yeah, sure. The last of the weakness is pretty much gone, I just gotta get used to how the scars pull now." She was grinning, trying to be reassuring, but there was only resignation that thrummed through her until she looked back at the Ascian and the grin turned into a smile. Tenderness curled through her as she adjusted the back of the coat, shifting it this way and that to see how much drag it caused. "We'll talk later, but for now... Shall we?"

He smiled thinly, more tired than anything as he adjusted his clothes and gestured for her to lead the way. 

* * *

"Not now, not while I'm this close!" 

The girl was struggling, he could see that clearly. Still, the backlash was building, and while he couldn't pretend that he could help her channel whatever it was that she was doing, he was already moving forward and had tucked his hands on her shoulders, offering her physical support and weaving his aether into a shield around her. 

A glance over confirmed it. She _did_ have some sort of limited foresight. The Warrior was already between Urianger and the pedestal, shouting at Thancred to brace as the ripple of energy burst through the room. All parties thus protected, he glanced down at the girl he had pressed the flat of his palms against the back of. 

"No! You listen to me!" 

With a quiet, unheard click, a new depth of her potential unlocked. The room shook, and he could feel the way they had begun to rise through the air before everything settled down. Every ilm of distance between him and that over-saturated ground brought a ponze of strength back to him, and he closed his eyes as he let out a content sigh. 

"Everyone alright?"

"Fighting fit, it seems." The Ascian glanced over, watching as she dusted herself off. No new scars, and his coat seemed undamaged. She held one of those aether-cutting black blades in hand though, so he presumed she must have carved a wide enough gap through the backlash as it coiled out across the room that she hadn't had to get hit. 

"You protected her. Thanks. Keep up the good work." The Warrior shot him a wink, and he rolled his eyes.

"-Please-, I only have the one body on the First and 'tis ever so great a distance between here and the populace of Norvrandt. A modicum of effort needs to be put forth to protect it, you know. For the sake of Thancred's poor eyes, if nothing else." The Ascian's words drew a snicker out of her, and she ambled over to survey Ryne. 

"I'm sure he's happy you're thinking about him. How're you doing, Ryne?"

Behind her, the Gunblade rolled his visible eye. 

"So, what happens n-" Red aether suffused the room, blaring out a warning as the Warrior heaved a sigh. "... I shouldn't've opened my mouth. If it's not one thing, it's another."

"Something's coming!" The girl turned back to the access point, holding out a hand as she tugged on her connection to Eden, trying to use it's array to clarify.

"But how doth thou- Hmm, perchance a sin eater?" The elezen stepped forward, tilting his head as he pondered before the girl grimaced, sounding strained.

"I don't know, it's hard to tell."

The Warrior shot him a questioning glance and he sighed as he checked. And blinked. And double checked. 

"Oh. Ohhhh...."

* * *

They split up. Thancred and Urianger to clear the voidsent that had already entered Eden's body, while he accompanied the Warrior to the surface. As they stood on the materializing platform, he tracked the incoming voidsent and sighed when she nudged him with an elbow. 

"Somehow, I get the feeling you know this person."

"Passingly acquainted."

"I won't press, but I'm right curious." She stretched again, swaying from side to side as her back and shoulders clicked quietly. "So... I don't... Really want you to think you've gotta protect me? Right here, right now, in this upcoming fight you're the one that's liable to take the most lasting hurt. It took a long time to train the other Scions out of that habit, and I _know_ how much of one it can get to be - I mean hey, that's exactly why I don't want you protecting me, 'cause I'm liable to be the one jumping in front've you, right? - but... I dunno. You didn't bring your armor or sword. What's your plan?"

"Orbit the platform, supporting as needed. I lack your ability to predict where a blow may strike, after all. How -does- that work?" He peered at her curiously, and she went thoughtful for a moment before turning to face him properly. 

"Alright, so best I can think to explain it?" She held one arm out, straight, and then slowly dragged it to the side. "I can see, as a sorta red smear across the ground, the entire move of -this- if someone's going to try and hit me like that. All that's left after that, is whether I can get out've the way in time. I don't always, sometimes I notice or look too slow and get clipped or nailed with it, and there's been loads of times where an attack doesn't, I dunno, tell me where it's going to land like that, but usually red or orange means pain. There's been times too where Alphinaud's carbuncle, for example, has done some sort've healing thing and I can see how far out it'll work so I can know where to stand to be in the edge of it. Those ones're mostly blue. There's more to it, but that's the basic run down." 

The Ascian ahh'd softly, pale gold eyes flitting up towards the approaching foe that they could now hear screaming through the air. 

"You... You sure you're going to be alright? Watching me get knocked about all by m'onesie? Without running in and getting yourself disemboweled or anything?" She stepped in and reached up, cupping the sides of his face and gently pulling his head down so that she could steal a small kiss for luck.

"No, but 'tis not as though I have much of a _choice_. I -may- attempt to catch you should you fall off, however. The girl neglected to consider railings when she crafted this platform." He stole a second one, and the platform rocked as the voidsent impacted with it. They both looked over, before she settled her mask into place and stretched one final time, unusually self-conscious and glad for his coat.

"Hey! I don't suppose you'd do me a favour and just fuck off, wouldja?" The Warrior drew both blades as he drifted slowly back along the platform, anchoring himself to the edge with a tether of aether so that he didn't have to worry about getting left behind.

"Servants of the accursed light, this world is not yours to claim!" 

"Guess that's a no, then. I had to try."

* * *

They worked surprisingly well together. She kept the voidsent's focus on her as he thinned the oncoming ranks, closing rifts as fast as they opened. The only point that had given him trouble was the larger rift through which an unfortunately familiar arm. It had torn through before he could haul it shut, and launched the Warrior clear across the platform before he was able to stuff it back in and sew closed the hole it had burst through. 

Thankfully, she had caught the edge of the platform and was hauling herself back up even as he oriented on her, a gesture and a thought putting a temporary barrier under her so that she could kick off and keep going.

She dashed in, sliding under a circular blow and popping up to hack and slash before her gaze snapped off to the right of the platform.

"Oi! Incoming!"

He finished shunting another voidsent back into the aether and turned, prepared this time in addition to forewarned. The rift snaked through the air, started to open, and he reached out with both hands even as he bent it to his will. Like the lips of a mouth, it pursed back shut and thinned, the aether above and below bulging slightly against the pressure and force that struggled against it. Anyone else, and it would have given away. 

But he wasn't anyone else. Keeping one hand raised with his finger and thumb pressed together, he held it shut. He even turned to divide his focus and continue swatting the ahriman that were being pulled through into oblivion.

"Traitor!"

He tried to not let himself rise to the bait, but felt his lips curling into a sneer regardless.

* * *

"She's alive, but there's something strange about her aether..." Ryne frowned, kneeling by the fallen voidsent as Thancred folded his arms and mirrored her expression.

"She didn't seem too pleased with Ryne taking control of eden, which may be what caused her to appear out of the blue. Beyond there, it's anyone's guess."

Urianger hummed, settling into a crouch beside the former oracle and holding a hand out over the unconscious form, studying her aether. "'Tis plain she is not a sin eater. Not even in part as Vauthry was. Yet this knowledge does little to assuage my fears, for she is nonetheless possessed of a power most terrible."

"On the other hand, if she's feeling cooperative, she might be able to tell us more about Eden. I'll keep an eye on her until she wakes up." The Gunblade unfolded his arms, hunkering down so that he could scoop his arms under the armored woman and carefully haul her up. "There's no telling what will happen when she does, but I'll make it clear that we mean her no harm. Well, no further harm, at the very least. Obviously, it's not a good idea to bring her inside Eden. It's likely that reaching the core was her aim from the outset, so I'll take her to the camp. Unless anyone _else_ has any ideas as to who she might be and why she might be here."

He was pointedly not looking at the Ascian, who simply folded his arms and looked away, remaining silent for the time being. 

"Hookey! Welp, I think it's a good idea to bring her down to the camp." The Warrior ambled over and clapped Thancred on the shoulder. "Let's all play to our strengths and try and find out what we can, alright? Urianger, Ryne, work from the core. I'm going to stay up here for a bit because wouldja just -look- at that view? It's no secret I've a soft spot for the high, dangerous places in the world, and I can see for _malms_ from up here. Emet-Selch, you're welcome to stay, considering at this distance the ground's probably not trying to stifle you nearly as bad."

She had a point, and the unspoken invitation _was_ appealing. He had a feeling he knew how the conversation was going to go, however, and it was confirmed when she let her hand drop once she had finished waving at everyone stepping into the aether slipstream to head out to their destinations. 

"Eme-"

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was?" He cut her off, blunt, and she reached up to ease the mask off her head so that she could stare down at it and fiddle with it. "But of _course_ you do. I can see it. The way your soul writhes in distress, there could be no doubt. You have said your piece regarding your _immortality_."

"Not gunna lie, a lot of us thought that Elidibus knew and had shared that with everyone. The Warriors of Darkness, they could do it too." She moved to sit down, raking her fingers back through her hair and grimacing as they snagged on some tangles. "So we thought that was why he'd brought them over, because then we'd waste all this time fighting each other, me against them. Guess that theory's blown out've the water." 

The Ascian heaved a sign before moving to sit down and stretch his legs out. "A good point, although I find myself unable to recall if he had or not. Perhaps he simply attributed it to their existence as disembodied souls. No body to kill, and thus with their Echo they were able to restore themselves. Lahabrea, after all, was largely the one focused on you and yours, and after his death many were left scrambling to try and pick up the pieces."

"That's... Definitely a thought. I don't pretend to know him as well as you do, though. Still I'm... I'm sorry. I know what it's like to want to protect someone and not be able to. That's not something I don't wish on anyone." She looked up from the mask in her hand, and sighed. "Can I ask a favour?"

"I don't know, do you still yet possess that ability?" He settled back, stretching out properly and then folding his hands across his chest as he watched the sky. 

"Talk to me?"

He huffed a little at that, closing his eyes as she shifted over and used his stomach as a pillow. "What precisely, do you think I've been doing for the last few minutes?"

"I mean, yeah, not wrong but you're... I dunno. You're _quiet_ and probably feel betrayed, miffed and you haven't -really- sassed me with more than a half-assed attempt. You've withdrawn, like you want to leave but just barely convinced yourself to stay. So... Talk to me. Doesn't matter about what. I'm tired and sore and I want to hear your voice. It feels like we're fighting, and that's... The last thing I want."

He mulled it over for a few moments, before heaving a sigh and settling a hand on her clavicle, the smallest of smiles curling his lips upwards as she tucked both of her own against it. 

"Oh, very well. Did I ever tell you about that time I 'accidentally' let Gaius see that pyrite, which looks like gold, was magnetic?"

* * *

"Oh. Oh _Twelve_, shit -shit-_shit_ I just had a really bad thought." The Warrior sat up abruptly, and Emet-Selch cracked an eye open to peer at her curiously. "You mentioned Lahabrea, and I remembered something. He kept going on about an utter catastrophe coming about because of an imbalance between light and dark, and I mean I totally thought that he was mostly bullshitting and forgot about it but thinking back on that after what you've said, about Amaurot, I had a thought."

The Ascian blinked at her as she twisted around to stare at him, and a quick survey of her aether noted the utter panic that had suffused her. Grunting, he narrowed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Put a few things together, have you?"

"That's what made the imbalance. Everything was- There wasn't any -change-. There wasn't any -conflict-. The world was all order, which was why the Star started breaking and screaming, it'd spent too long 'ordered' that everything snapped like a string stretched too thin, like a muscle that hadn't been exercised and just left too long in a pulled position, so when Zodiark was made, when you lot gave the Star a will, it was able to choke down and stop that because if balance can't be achieved naturally, then it needs to be enforced. And with Zodiark sundered, the will of the star sundered, everything's still tipped too far towards Order. So you lot were all trying to either make him whole again to get a chokehold again and making chaos to _stall_ for time."

"A _thousand thousand_ lifetimes, and another one finally figures it out." He tisked, mildly amused as she clapped both of her hands against her own cheeks, letting out a wheeze. "It certainly _took_ you long enough."

"I'd always wondered why you guys kept going on about order and chaos!" She twisted to stare at him. "When you guys only seemed to be trying to kill people, I thought you were just using it as an excuse! But you don't -lie-, and that was part of your work too! I always thought it weird that you weren't really doing anything that seemed order-shaped, just- Aaahhhhg!"

"And then your efforts went and spoiled more than half of it." He huffed, sitting up properly. 

"Killing people like that is _wrong_! There's got to be ways to make chaos that don't involve mass murder. And I mean wide-scale, not just me pranking you and back and forth." 

"You would think. The slow march of the ages would prove you by and large wrong, however." The Ascian rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, heaving a tired sigh. "We tried. _I_ tried. But for every concept and potentiality that we came up with, nothing could tip the inexorable march of stagnation. The Calamities have eased the burden somewhat, strengthening Him and prolonging what they could through the ages."

"I-" Her soul cringed, and she stared at him, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Sorrow washed through her, and he snapped his head up at the _familiarity_ of it.

* * *

_"It's a flawed concept! A being such as that will always seek more power, until there's nothing left save for it! It can't help but do so, Hades, you **know** this won't work for the long term!" She had begged him, pleaded, wheedled and cajoled, but they had received reports of another city being swallowed up by the rampant, unstable creation magics that were spreading without rhyme or reason. He was standing at the corner of his desk as she tucked her hands against the back of the chair._

_"Perhaps not, but we have to do something!" He shouted at her, and he only somewhat regretted it as her very being recoiled. "People are dying! OUR people! Everybody is living in fear of Amaurot being **next**! We as members of the Convocation must do something, and I don't see **you** coming up with any ideas!"_

_"Lovely, please, just give me more time! You don't have to do this today, if we all work together, we can find a way-"_

_"I have **work** to do, in case you hadn't noticed." Flapping a hand at her, he threw himself down into his chair and rolled up his sleeves, irritably grabbing the pen. He could feel the tender, featherlight touch of her soul against his as she silently tried to change his mind before he shut her out and ignored how she psychically recoiled from how hard and how fast he had slammed his walls up. "Go and play with your birds."_

_His wife was silent for a long moment, before she turned and slowly, softly left his office. _

* * *

_He basked in the power of his God, the god that thirteen Convocation members had forged out of the life of half of their people, and as he pushed open the door to their shared apartment where she should have been waiting for him, only silence greeted him. On the counter, propped up by a pomegranate, sat a note that declared in her slanted, messy handwriting that she was out traveling the world, playing with her birds._

_<<She lied to you. Find her. Bring her to me. I shall touch her heart, and she will come to understand. She will stand by your side once more, and all will be well.>>_

_Hades stared at the pomegranate, and began to worry._

* * *

_He was right to. When they had found her, they hadn't exactly been gentle. The three of them, Lahabrea, Elidibus and Emet-Selch stood at the meeting table and watched as they dragged her in, bruised and battered, and when those escorting her tried to throw her to the ground she simply braced her step and shrugged them off, slowly straightening to stare at them. _

_"I haven't done anything wrong."_

_"You betrayed us." Lahabrea folded his arms. "When the time came to summon Zodiark, you were confined to your apartment, and yet when your husband arrived you were nowhere to be seen."_

_"Funny, I remember that conversation differently, Speaker-" She was cut off as Elidibus raised a hand._

_"Then let us speak plainly, so that henceforth there may be no misunderstandings. Go before Zodiark, profess your loyalty to Him and we can resume helping fix our broken Star."_

_"That depends, what's your next step? Awful lot of stick and very little carrot to be seen."_

_"The world is in shambles. It needs must be re-ordered. Rebuilt. The very land is poisoned, water acid and the air tainted." Emet-Selch stepped forward, holding his hands out, imploringly to his wife. "Please, 'Seph, we need you on this. You're the one that manages vegetation. We can't do this easily without you."_

_He could see her waver, until Lahabrea opened his mouth again. _

_"We will sacrifice half of the rest of those who yet remain to provide Zodiark with the power to-"_

_"You want me to agree to the death of half of those that remain." She spoke slowly, carefully, as if trying to make sure she understood before lifting her head. "You know, I'd hoped to reason with you. I guess there's not enough of who you were left to do so with, if you think I'd ever go along with that."_

_Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his mask, sighing. "We don't have a choice-"_

_"There's ALWAYS a choice!" She threw her arms out to the sides. "... No... That's not right any more. Not for you. Each and every one of you has darkness in your heart now. I guess he's taken that ability away from you."_

_<<Blasphemy! Bring her before me!>>_

_"You DARE!" Lahabrea surged forward, rounding the table and bringing both hands up as if he meant to strangle her. He didn't make it half way before she raised a hand and looked at her husband. _

_"I'm sorry." She said, as she snapped her fingers and vanished. Everyone stared at where she had stood, baffled as they watched her clearly disperse into the lifestream, which pulsed and then pulsed again, elsewhere._

* * *

_They hunted her down. They gave half of all those left to fix the damage, and then they hunted her down like a traitor, like an animal. She never stopped moving, she ever stopped running, knowing that they would always be able to find her. He had her ring after all, made by his own hands out of her personal aether. He used it to get ahead of the others, hoping he could talk to her. _

_"Botanist."_

_"Architect." _

_They stared at each other, wasting the precious moments they had before the others arrived. _

_"I see you all went ahead with your plan." She gestured to the world around them, robes mud-spattered and torn in places. She sounded tired. "What's next, then?"_

_"You don't have to run any more. I've spoken with them, and we came up with a better way. A way that doesn't cost the lives of our people." _

_"Oh? Go on, Lovely." She idly turned and started to walk, and he fell into step with her. "This should be good."_

_"We will cultivate the star until it is rich and verdant, madly blooming with life, and then we will give his life to Zodiark and he will return our people to us."_

_"That's not how the cycle of life works, Emet-Selch." She paused, glancing to her left and right, before simply continuing on ahead. Somewhere in the distance people were cursing, likely tangled and caught in the vines that only seemed to leave him alone because of her presence. "They're gone. You want to get their souls and aether back? Dig them out of your god."_

_"Suffused with the aether of plants and animals, He will return them, they will be restructured and-"_

_"And what about -their- souls? The souls of every plant and animal? Life's a life. Besides, you and I both know that any aether used for the construction of a Primal is reordered and washed clean of it's ego to make room for its own."_

_"-Please-, 'Seph, it's a **tree**. Come back with me. We can still set this right."_

_She sighed and stopped, while somewhere to their left something light blue flit out and settled onto the hand she outstretched towards it. A bird, with darker blue banding along the tips of it's wings and tail feathers. "No, I don't think we can until you guys stop trying to kill things. Maybe the others can't see it because they don't work as closely with the creatures we make, but I know better. Everything has an aether, has a soul, and has a name. Everything that dies is reborn, but all those memories are lost so that it can start over. So that it can explore and enjoy and learn and be delighted with everything all over again. Even our people aren't above this law, Hades. Even if you manufacture their memories, it won't be them. I hope you never have to learn that the hard way."_

_She held up a hand as he opened his mouth, knowing without looking perhaps what he was about to say. _

_"Some death is necessary. Death on this scale? Sacrifice and martyrism of this degree? We could have fixed the world ourselves over the generations needed to do so. Our people's creation magics are still intact. We didn't need to kill more people to do so. But your god demanded it, and so it was done, countless lives stuffed into a crystalline maw that hungers ever after."_

_"And what would you know about that? You left! You refused to talk it out with the other Convocation members." He was angry now,hand clenched so tightly that the ring - **her** ring - was digging into his skin almost painfully. _

_<<Soon, bring her before me, you must do it soon...>>_

_"Even you won't listen to me, Lovely. If you won't, do you really think the rest of them would?"_

_"Fine. You refuse to see reason? I'll take you to Zodiark myself, and you will see the truth of it." He reached out, reaching for her arm only her to get lifted out of the way by the root she had been standing on. "Get back here!"_

_"No, Hades. I'm sorry, but-"_

_"If you refuse, then that's it!" He snarled at her, desperate, frustrated, enraged and egged on by the voice whispering in the back of his mind. It would work, it had to work, he could stretch the truth- "Then we're **THROUGH!**"_

_She didn't flinch, she didn't speak and she didn't even move to look at him. When he studied her aether, trying to gauge her response he sucked in a breath at what he saw there. _

_Her impossible, bluest blue hue, frozen utterly solid. Cold, hard, fragile and sharp all at once. _

_"'Seph-"_

_There was a snap of her fingers, echoed by the crack of the ring around his finger as it shattered and he was struck by the thought that she had let him keep it, that she had wanted him to find her, that she had wanted - _

_It didn't matter. She was gone now. _

* * *

She sucked in a breath, holding her head, heart crushed by a grief that wasn't her own as arms came around her. She was lost, she was _drowning_ and she couldn't _stop_ -

* * *

_"Persephone-"_

_"You don't get to call me that any more, Emet-Selch."_

_Her words, tired as they were, hit him with all the force of a slap across the face. She was standing on the edge of a mountain, staring at the scenery as he came up behind her. Everyone else was scattered about, though now that he knew where she was, doubtless the others would start making their way there. _

_<<Her forces are spread too thin. She cannot hope to win against us. Kill her, and grant her the mercy of a swift death.>>_

_"He wants you to kill me, doesn't he. Every time you see me, that swirl of darkness around your heart **squeezes**. Well, it's too late for that now. I'm already dying."_

_"What... did you do." He tried to study her aether, reaching out to brush against her soul but was met with only a hard, unyielding crystalline blue._

_<<She carries a weapon of great destructive power. Elidibus has her.>>_

_But that was impossible, because she was there, standing in front of him, and the Emissary was across the forest that they looked down on, on a completely different mountain. _

_"If I told you, you'd try and stop it." She turned towards him, hands cupping something, hiding it, shielding it from his senses and sight. "I can't let him devour everything. I'm sorry."  
_

_<<Lahabrea has found her.>>_

_"What did you **do!?**" He stared, aghast as she parted her hands. It was a short chunk of crystal she held cupped in the palm of one hand now, within which a compacted aetheric accelerator vibrated madly, straining against it's container. She lifted the other hand and he lunged, knowing in an instant what she was about to do. _

_He could feel her grim smile as she stepped back, plummeting off the cliff, and he was too slow, too far away to do more than lean over, reaching as she fell, watching as she snapped her fingers, watching as her aether surged, there and elsewhere and everywhere within reach, every creation she had ever touched offering half of itself to survive, to remain alive even as it gave of itself to fuel her. The world _ ** _wilted_ ** _, and in three different places three aetheric accelerators were crunched, each exploding into blue-white radience. _

_He had the barest of seconds to watch as each bloom of impossible, bluest blue streaked towards one another, met and crystallized, before the second Primal was born and surged upwards._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one vote for a casual day from everyone else's perspective, which I think sounds pretty fun. Bless your faces for the comments! I'll have to write a second public prompt


	18. What a lov-el-y pic-a-nic~ (100 kudos milestone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone has a casual, relaxing day with nothing going wrong whatsoever.

The Crystal Exarch didn't _have_ to be careful with the knife, but he was. Just because it wouldn't do more than scrape loudly and harmlessly against his crystal hand if he missed was no reason to be sloppy about it. He had a job to do, and as his greying ears twitched and flicked he found himself enjoying the process. It was... Nice, to be normal.

Besides, she'd said she liked his sandwiches, so how could he have done anything but offer to make more, to fill up a basket for their little outing?

Another tomato sliced, the stem neatly removed so that there wasn't anything that might make anyone cringe or spit. He was humming to himself, a half-forgotten tune that had been played on a flute, if he remembered right. Maybe he could ask her to bring over some orchestration rolls in the future, though he didn't really want to bother her with a silly little request like that. She had other things to do, what with the war going on in the Source and the source of light-based aether that Ryne had felt out in the Empty. Always so busy, yet always trying to make time for moments she could fill with laughter...

She hadn't changed. He remembered that she had been constantly busy in the past, too, though she always made time for him. She made time for _everyone_, and still managed to make time for him. He could feel his tail twitch and shift under the heavy robes and skirts that covered it, even as he stepped to the side to start laying out the slices of bread. Twelve in all, and while there wouldn't be enough for more than one per person... Well, twelve was all he could fit in the basket, sadly. 

Reaching for the flat knife, he dipped it into the jar of mayonnaise a started to slather the bread with the flavourful stuff, shoulders and head wiggling slightly from side to side as he recalled more and more of the tune. It had been a pounding, dancy beat, and in no time he was skipping as he made his way to the sink to collect the head of lettuce that was already washed and had been left in a strainer to drip as dry as it could. Making his way back around the counter, he hummed to himself and hopped to click his heels together before a throb through his lower back and knees reminded him about just how bad of an idea that was. 

Ears flattening against his hair, he hobbled the last few steps, set the head of lettuce down, and rubbed his lower back with a sigh. 

Well, anything else could hardly be expected. He was an old man now, after all. No matter how much seeing his Hero lifted his spirits, his old bones could hardly be counted on to keep up. But that didn't matter, he hardly needed to be able to cartwheel to make a _sandwich._

_(Her face had lit up when she stepped into the Ocular and caught sight of him, gushing about his gift and demanding that he eat at least one of them with her. She had been right, of course. It was a -very- tasty sandwich, doubly so because everything tasted better when shared with others.)_

Reaching for the pile of of bacon that he had carefully pressed the worst of the grease from, the Tia stuffed one into his face before chewing and humming as he laid the rest out across half of the mayonnaise covered pieces of bread. The few slices left were fair game, and as he started to carefully layer lettuce across the sandwiches he found himself trying to eye each one and figure out if she might go for any one over any of the others even as he lobbed the rest of the lettuce over his shoulder and into the sink without looking. Surely she would like a bit of extra bacon in hers. She deserved it, if nothing else for saving Norvrandt. 

The carefully shaped tomato slices were tucked into place, before he folded the sandwiches closed and delivately brought the sharp knife around each of them, removing the excess trimmings and, from a few, the crusts. Did she even like the crusts? Did she dislike them? His time spent <strike>spying</strike> scrying on her didn't seem to indicate it. She generally just stuffed the food in her face, enjoyed it and went on her way. Still, Ryne might have an aversion to the crusts...

Smiling to himself, ears perked and happily flicking, he packed the sandwiches in the basket and folded the flaps shut to ensure they remained safe and secure. All that was left was to bring them down for the picnic. He hooked one arm through the handles of the basket and briskly set out, trading his apron for his staff on the way out. He could always clean up his kitchen later.

For now, he had a very important promise to keep, and a basket to deliver.

* * *

Alphinaud and Alisaie ambled through the Crystarium market, pointing out things to each other and chattering back and forth about the little, pointless things. Twin One recounted how, exactly, his childhood hobby of painting had actually come in useful and demanded she pay up what she owed for a bet that neither were sure had actually been _made_, while Twin Two argued that he hadn't gotten anything in _writing_ so she wasn't obligated to do anything. Except maybe tease him about how he had collapsed on Eulmore's beaches after Amaurot.

He took it in stride, mentioning that they couldn't _all_ breath water, and that at least he hadn't fallen behind like Urianger. And he _was_ working to better himself. Also, was that a drink booth?

Alisaie had taken the distraction for what it was, laughing as they both made their way over to inspect the stock. Eulmorean cherry brandy. Royal grape wine, right from the Rak'tika Greatwood. Things neither of them had any inclination to drink, but they both knew about the Warrior's preferences and the why behind them. She was also fairly normal when drunk, if more mischievous than average. Few and far between were the times they had seen her get violent or angry simply by drinking, and never had any of that anger been turned on the Scions. No, that had been reserved for _Thordan_. 

It was something they had all felt, and finding her tearing through training dummies as if they had personally offended her was a perfectly acceptable outlet for such things.

Sure, she might curse more (which was a minor issue, considering Ryne had perfectly good hearing and the Warrior certainly wasn't the only one with a foul mouth) but the worst she had ever treated anyone while utterly drunk was a crystalline silence as she watched the world from a rooftop. Not even Urianger, who had once been able to get her to accept the company of another by bringing a book with him and easing along the roof an ilm at a time over the course of two bells was able to get her to talk when she got like that, for all that the mood dissipated faster. 

"Oh look, they have bottles of those fake alcoholic beverages. This way everyone can feel like they're drinking when she does. What do you think." Twin Two turned, one bottle in each hand. "Sparkling peach, or sparkling raspberry."

"There will be quite a few of us there. Why not both?" Twin One dug out his wallet, paying for both bottles and making a note to send Urianger over to peruse the rest of the selection. It didn't matter how often they fought for the good of the people, their height (and his heretofore failed attempts to grow anything resembling facial hair) largely meant that nobody was going to sell them anything alcoholic. As irritating as it could be, they both took it in stride and and tried not to let it get to them. Alisaie carried them both as he tucked the receipt away, and they continued their leisurely amble. 

Speaking of, they eventually caught sight of him as he sat idly in the grass, one hand raised to his face to stroke through his beard even as he studied the material in his grasp. Sharing a glance, they both slowed their pace and diverted off the path to meander their way over to him, Twin One leaning to try and see if there was a title on the spine of the book. 

"A personal work of yours, Urianger?"

"Hmm?" Glancing up at them, he blinked and then set it aside, glancing up to check the time. "'Tis true enough. My time spent within Il Mheg hath born bounteous fruit with regards to the riddle-game that shalt be part and parcel of our later festivities. After seven days and seven nights t'would appear I have collected quite the repertoire, and must needs comb through them to ensure that none too difficult are posed. Yon Warrior of Light doth not bend her mind to such things, and I would ensure that all present enjoy their time."

"Did you know? Y'shtola has a bidding pool going for how long she stays. My money's on an hour, tops before she breaks and sneaks away." Twin Two smiled as her brother shook his head. "Oh don't be like that Brother, your gil's on two."

"Just _how_ you know that is a matter I will have to speak with the sorceress about. I was under the impression it was to be a subtle thing."

"Nay, for Thancred did bet a pittance that she shalt vanish 'ere half a bell hath passed. Pray tell, what manner of beverages have you?" The older elezen stretched idly, as Alisaie held them both out so that he could inspect the labels. 

"We got them at a booth a little way back. We were hoping you would go back there and get something appropriate for the adults. They seemed to have a pretty good stock, from what I've seen."

The astrologian nodded slowly as Twin Two finished and pointed, before collecting his book and pushing himself up, before glancing between the two of them as Twin One reached up to idly rub at his face and jaw line. "Fret not, young Alphinaud. One day, thou shalt be possessed of the facial hair and, failing that, height to purchase the adult beverages with which the countless masses do throw themselves to in vain efforts to drown the past. If thy grandsire was any indication, it shalt indeed be a more glorious beard than mine own."

"Well, at least one of those things will come true. I doubt the part about his facial hair, however." Alisaie giggled as Twin One pouted at her and folded his arms before looking back at the taller elezen. 

"You'll hold true to your promise to teach me how to shave, then?"

Urianger dipped into a polite, old-fashioned bow. "When the time comes, young Alphinaud, t'would be my pleasure to induct thou to such arts." 

* * *

Thancred stretched as he wandered between the pale trees and their lavender leaves. The Crystarium was coming into sight, and Ryne had run along ahead to eagerly find the others and tell them that they had found the _perfect_ spot for their gathering. It was an admittedly nice place that was up on a little bit of a bluff with some trees for shade and a fairly good view of the water that Bismark had settled back into. He _still_ found it weird that the primal(?) was just... Laying around, napping, but it wasn't as if he could do a whole lot about it. 

As he made it to the gates, a commotion drew his attention and he meandered across the vast space to find that it was a handful of people dressed in the flowing garb commonly preferred by dancers. Well, at least, dancers who weren't _Lyna_. He had noted the similarity of how they moved and her chosen weapons, though the viis seemed to practically live in her Crystarium armor. He almost pitied her, considering how much the Warrior had told him it weighed. Still, to be able to pull off stunts like what the dancers were doing in the heavy chain mail was a mark of her skill and strength. 

"Oh! You made it!" Ryne jogged up to him, before tucking her hands onto her knees while she caught her breath. "I've... I've already sent word to the Exarch about the spot we found."

"Y'shtola is going to insist on a bonfire, and Urianger - the traditionalist that he is - is going to second her." The gunblade reached up to tug ad the cloth that covered his silver eye, nose wrinkling. "Well, now that we've delivered our scouting report, feel up to getting the spot prepared?"

The former oracle smiled as she straightened. "A bonfire? We can do dancing too!"

"Well, I don't know about that." Thancred turned, and she fell into step with him as they both turned to start down the bridge. "The only dances I know are more meant for the planks of a dock than a picnic."

"You know how to _dance_?" She boggled at him, hands lifting before she was skipping ahead of him and turning so that she could walk backwards. "Can you show me? I don't know how to dance at all! When we were at the festival with the Night's Blessed, I barely knew what I was doing!"

He shook his head, lips quirking upwards as he fought down a smile. "Ryne, that's basically what dancing is. At least, the dancing I know. Urianger's the one that does all the old-fashioned, stiff posturing stuff. Alisaie's up for a good jig every now and then but half of dancing is making yourself look like a fool and the other half is enjoying everyone else doing the same."

"But I want to learn how _you_ dance." She was pouting now, shoulders slumping slightly as she turned to fall into step next to him again. Not for the first time he was reminded that she was a _child_, younger even than the twins. "I've never seen you dance, not even at the festival."

"... Oh alright. But let's get a ways into the trees before I make a fool of myself in public." The gunblade heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping as he tilted his head back to look at the sky. Firewood and footwork it was. 

* * *

The Exarch ambled along, engaged in idle conversation with the twins and Urianger as they found the spot that Ryne and Thancred had found earlier that day. There was already a fire going, courtesy of Y'shtola who had gotten there an hour or so before them, and as they all met up they exchanged pleasantries and started to set out the various things they had brought across the blanket that the sorceress had laid out for them. Basket, bottles, wooden cups and plates were arranged so that nothing was in danger of falling over, and as Y'shtola turned back to the bed of coals over which roasted a number of kebabs everyone settled in. 

Nobody directly mentioned it, but there was a large, person-shaped hole that was curiously absent as the sun kissed the horizon. The gunblade had mixed feelings on it, considering he had scaled a roof to tell the Warrior about their picnic himself but that her presence would _also_ mean that of the Ascian's. They seemed to be all but attached at the hip, these days. 

Still, as a group they put off saying anything even as some of them periodically and subtly scanned the area around them for their missing guests. 

News was shared. King Titania (everyone called Feo Ul that, considering their real name would draw their attention and _nobody_ wanted to deal with the tantrum that would be thrown if their gathering was discovered and the Madbloom hadn't been invited) had put their collective people to the task of gathering seeds and harvesting small saplings so that when the time came they could expand the forests, Urianger mentioned, to which Y'shtola had perked up and said that she should probably ask the Night's Blessed to do the same, promising she would pass the word on to the viis to see what kind of a joint effort could be made. Alphinaud talked animatedly and excitedly about the airship network he was working on with Eulmore's airships. Alisaie conversed with G'raha about using the sand from Ahm Areng as a building material much as he had with the crystal from the tower. 

The sun dipped part way below the horizon, and conversations trickled off to watch it, peaceful and content. 

"I think that just about waits out any and all bets, Y'shtola. You lot started and all've the bets were for half a bell to a bell and a half before I buggerd off." 

"Hero!" The Exarch reacted first, turning to spy the Warrior as she lifted a pair of kebabs and munched contently on one. The other was offered up and slightly behind, so that Emet-Selch could eye it almost critically and then lean forward to take a bite, hands otherwise occupied with a rather large box.

"Where have you _been__?_" The Sorceress surged to her feet, turning to round on the Warrior as she interposed her nibbled-on kebab as if to ward Y'shtola off. "You're _two bells late!_"

"Hey now, we had a heck of a time trying to figure out what to bring." She nudged an elbow backwards gingerly, gently tapping the box and looking exasperated. "This wasn't _easy_ to make, and I had to get a poor old man to take pity on me every time one came through half-baked to help me." 

Said 'old man' rolled pale gold eyes before stepping to the side so that he could plod over to the middle of the blanket and crouch, setting the box down. Standing back up and brushing his hands off, he lifted one and then snapped as the box vanished to reveal... A cake. 

White whipped cream, bedecked with cherries lined the top, while more whipped cream held a chocolate crumble about the perimeter. 

"You... made this?" Alphinaud looked towards her, and then towards the Ascian, before his eyes settled on the cake once more. 

"Yep! Sharlayan recipie, too. It's got _layers_!" The Warrior beamed at them, before stooping to snag a bottle and plop herself down, patting the ground behind her. Emet-Selch studied them all, before obligingly sinking down where she had indicated. "Alright! Now then, I was told there was to be a game of _riddles_, and I'm right good to lose horribly at it. Shall we?"

Urianger didn't miss a beat, snapping open his green book and glancing at it before eyeing her solemnly. "Ten men's length, ten men's strength, ten men can't tear it, yet a little boy walks off with it. What is it?"

Everyone groaned, and things picked up nicely after that. 

It was a pleasant evening, all told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that Urianger -chooses- to talk the way he does, that he's basically a 30 year old weeb for fae culture who just refuses to stop larping  
I love him  
I love them all, actually


	19. Eschaton (pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind the missing chapter 18. It's the 'snippets of non-angsty, happy days' as seen through everyone else's eyes. It's a work in progress, but this bubbled out of me in the meantime.

She stared at the others. She was silent for a long moment, while others discussed ways to stop their very star from breaking apart. So far, the popular idea was to... imbue their star with a will. Because, y'know, that would go well. Anyone that volunteered to have a hand in it would have their aether utterly tied to this being in ways that were as yet unexplored. It had never been attempted before, the creation of a God, but from what they had seen from the shorter-lived races there were basic concepts that had to be obeyed. 

They came to her, looking for advice, holding out their concept because above and beyond being the Botanist, she was Eschaton. There was a longstanding tradition of those that had held her position being level headed, ironing out any final flaws and - in the event of a tie - her word was law. Her job was to manage all of the short-lived things such as the plants and, to a lesser extent, animals within the city and within the immediate vicinity when there was nobody else to. It was a broad spectrum that her power commanded. She was symbolic of the End, and what came After for these things, and never had she hated her title as much as she did right then and there. 

It wasn't supposed to apply to her own people. 

But now she had thirteen other Convocation members staring at her, slowly growing unnerved by her silence as they waited for her to agree with them, waited for her to dictate the end of the Calamity that was slowly inching towards their city and their people. 

"It's _crap_." 

Her answer threw the room into chaos. The eyes of the current Emet-Selch met hers, bewildered, and as Elidibus called for a recess he lightly tilted his head to the side, gesturing to one of the side rooms. Through the chaos, she nodded and pushed herself up, making her way out and leaving the roiling mass of emotions largely behind. 

The door closed behind her, coupled with a sigh before arms came around her from behind and her husband was draping himself over her in a hug. She reached up, taking one of his hands with her own and leaning back against him even as she closed her eyes. 

"You know, even _I_ could have phrased that more delicately."

"What can I say, I was so utterly at a loss for words that the _horribly bad idea_ you all latched onto was actually brought before me that I lost my eloquent nature to the bafflement that battered me."

He huffed idly, rocking them both gently. She took the moment to study his soul, grimacing at the slowly swirling vortex of royal amethyst and gold highlights. There was a deep well of exhaustion there. She could tell they had been trying to figure out what, exactly, to do for weeks now while she was away on her trip and had long since expected her to go along with them. 

"Lovely, you _can't_ think that's a good idea. The basic concept follows the binding principles and a pooling of aether. You would be acting as priests to something that can't make aether on it's own, and while it wouldn't be too hard to make sure that it wasn't constantly draining yours - because, believe you me, something that _big_ is going to need to do so almost constantly to function - you would have to give it a reserve tank the size of a small _moon_. Even if you did, where would you get it's supply? How would you replenish it?"

"So you admit the idea has merit." 

"No, I _don't_. It's if not as, then more dangerous than the coming Calamity strictly by dint of the longstanding effects it will have on our people. You'd have to tie _everyone_ into it just to keep it stable, and even then it would grow as it was fed and demand a greater influx of aether. It would just get _hungrier_."

"'Seph, we're all tired, and your words caught everyone by surprise. How about this. I shall call for an end of the session so that everyone can have more time to think about it, and in return you read through the paper on it." The use of her name, her _true_ name had her sighing as she scrubbed a hand over her mask and trailing them down the flanges that ran along her cheeks. 

"Fine. But -you- get to make dinner."

He squeezed her against his chest, before placing a quick kiss against the side of her masked face. "Deal. Shall we?"

* * *

She walked softly into his office, eased the door open and teased it shut behind her so that she could move nigh silently to the desk that he was using as a pillow and loudly slam the folder for the Zodiark Project down next to his head. The way he practically leapt out of his skin was a small victory, and as he collected himself she threw herself down into the chair usually reserved for guests. 

"... Eschaton."

"We need to talk."

Adjusting his mask, Emet-Selch studied her and straightened imperceptibly. She was here on _business_. reaching for the folder, he flipped it open and balked at the sheer amount of red ink lined the edges of each page, detailing just what exactly she thought about the plan. 

"How, in the entirity of the Star we live on, did you and the others expect me to _okay_ this."

""We reviewed the suggestion you gave me, and we devised three alternate methods for fueling this endeavor." He flipped through the pages to the appropriate one and blinked at the extra page that she had tucked neatly into place that was covered with red ink. "... I take it you disliked them."

"Option one, pull from our people. Option two, pull from the aether bound in all other living things. Option three, bind it to the _Lifestream._ I shouldn't have to tell you this, but that's basically mass genocide for the first two options and an unfathomably _bad_ idea for the third. I shouldn't even have to explain that one."

"We would only ask such from those who would volunteer-"

"Turn the page over, and check my math. I'll _wait._" She watched his soul twitch with irritation, though he complied and checked her figures. "You're asking an entire _quarter_ of Amaurot's population to give this thing enough power to control our Star. And that's just to get it _rolling_, to do this one singular thing, nevermind whatever you ask of it after. Emet-Selch, I _cannot_ approve of this option."

"And what of the second then? Surely, the least offensive to you..." He gestured, and trailed off as she shook her head

"Are we conquerors then, to demand of things that cannot give their consent? Do we throw aside our oaths to uphold and abide by free will, to refrain from using our greater gifts to take from those who lack them? Aside from personally managed territories, the Wildlands have the most naturally occurring abundance of aether that you would need for this, and it would drain the entirety of it dry." She flicked her fingers through the air. "And don't even get me _started_ on the idea of using the Lifestream. There's fourteen of us. We should be able to figure out a better way."

"We've spent two months already debating, searching and theorizing. Eschaton, there... Simply isn't another way at this point-"

"Then _find_ one. Don't stop looking, until the very, very end. Even then, look some more." She pushed herself to her feet, making her way to the door before she sighed, one hand on the handle. "... I know, that you're all working very hard. That it's difficult simply because I'm stuck being out there more than I can be here. But... Please, find something else. Find a different way."

And then she pushed open the door, and was gone.

* * *

The day of the Vote came, and she stared at everyone else that had stood up and stared back at her. 

"Thirteen for, one against. We will proceed tomorrow with the preparations. Let's work hard together, to reduce as much damage to our Star as we can." Elidibus shuffled the paperwork on the table in front of him, gathering it up and making his way to the wide double-doors that led out into the halls and the city beyond. Slowly, in twos and threes, everyone else left until it was just her and Emet-Selch, who was rhythmically tapping the end of his pen against the table he sat at across from her. 

The tapping stopped, and he sighed. 

"Eschaton... I know you're unhappy with this, but 'tis hardly the first vote to be less than unanimous." 

She gave him nothing. She gave him worse than nothing. She gave him silence as she turned the matter over in her head. 

"Persephone...?" She twitched at her name, at how it rang through to her very core and shifted her gaze from the fixed point on the wall down to her masked husband. He was standing in front of the table, exhausted, soul a tight spiral of frustration, and she was reminded that this was agonizing for him, too. 

"Yes, my Lovely, I know." She pushed herself up from the chair, made her way around and lightly butted her head against his chest even as she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm still going to look into alternate solutions. Its... A lot of people to kill. An utter _waste_. We need to know more about why this is happening, and I'm going to go and find out why if I can. I don't know why I stayed for the vote. I knew it was going to end like this."

"You just returned a year ago." He frowned, and the tight spiral of frustration sagged as sadness spread through him. 

"I know, but I have to try. If I can glean even the smallest shred of a possibility, I have to. None of us want to kill anyone. Not you, not me, and not them either. Nobody knows the lands out there like I do except maybe Halmarut. If you've all scoured everything in the city, then maybe..."

* * *

A member of her administration had hunted her down to let her know the date had been set, and she practically growled as they both raced back to the city, hoping it wasn't too late. They hadn't wanted to let her know, and it was a small miracle that any of her people had found out about it at all.

The other council members had run a test. The control group (they had introduced the concept to one of the beast-tribes, and then offered a controlled amount of aether to limit it's strength) had churned out a promising concept beyond a few flaws. The pair of Amaurotine Creators that had volunteered to go showed odd signs of overfondness towards their creation, a bond that mimicked that of love but they had as of yet been unable to shake so that they could put the creature down. This bond was replicated across every sentient creature that had been there. They were all in containment for the time being, while they worked out the kinks but the other thirteen hadn't wanted to wait any longer, hadn't wanted to risk it. The side effects were manageable.

_Worked out the kinks._ It was slavery, is what it was. 

She had gone to her husband, to the one person outside of her own administration that might listen. She caught up with him in his office as he finalized some of the details, preparing for the ritual that was set to take place that very night.

"It's a flawed concept! A being such as that will always seek more power, until there's nothing left save for it! It can't help but do so, Hades, you _know_ this won't work for the long term!" She had begged him, pleaded, wheedled and cajoled, but they had received reports of another city being swallowed up by the rampant, unstable creation magics that were spreading without rhyme or reason. He was standing at the corner of his desk as she tucked her hands against the back of the chair.

"Perhaps not, but we have to do something!" He shouted at her, and he only somewhat regretted it as her very being recoiled. "People are dying! OUR people! Everybody is living in fear of Amaurot being _next_! We as members of the Convocation must do something, and I don't see _you_ coming up with any ideas!"

"Lovely, please, just give me more time! You don't have to do this today, if we all work together, we can find a way-"

"I have _work_ to do, in case you hadn't noticed." Flapping a hand at her, he threw himself down into his chair and rolled up his sleeves, irritably grabbing the pen. He could feel the tender, featherlight touch of her soul against his as she silently tried to change his mind before he shut her out and ignored how she psychically recoiled from how hard and how fast he had slammed his walls up. "Go and play with your birds."

His wife was silent for a long moment, before she turned and slowly, softly left his office. 

From there, she returned to her own administrative building and closed the doors behind her. Everyone was staring at her. She looked around, and then let out a slow sigh. 

"Whoever wants out, leave now. Most of you have partners in other departments. Some of you have partners that have volunteered for this... Terrible thing they're about to do. So I say to you now, before we are at cross odds with everything you love, with everything you cherish, leave now. Spread the word to everyone else in our direct line of work. For those of you who wish to help me, join me in the auditorium on level three."

There was a flurry of activity as everyone in the room burst into motion as she started to make her way towards the stairs. People rushed past her, _her_ people, and she was the slow, plodding calm of the eye of a storm. When she pushed open the doors to the auditorium, most of the seats were taken and the rest were rapidly filling up to leave standing room only. 

They gathered, a sea of masks, parting before her as she made her way around to the stairs and up onto the stage. She stood there, waiting, counting faces. They were all there. She let out a slow breath, before drawing herself up. 

"I've leaked what they're going to do to everyone in our building. I did that the very day they decided to do it, and all of you have probably heard about their control group. If not, ask. The person standing next to you probably knows. The citizenry spoke of it in hushed whispers as I came back."

She gave them a moment. The silence that answered her was deafening, so she nodded. 

"What I want... Is unreasonable. Every single one of you has passed the requisite training and tests to survive - nay, to _thrive_ in the Wildlands. I will _not_ see any of you lose your free will, the thing we have spent a thousand thousand years cultivating and promoting in others. I want all of you, to disappear with me. I want, to keep looking for a better way and I want all of our field agents to gather at the secondary camp to wait for our arrival."

She drew another slow breath, before letting it out slowly and continuing. 

"We know a truth down to the very marrow of our bones that they seem to have forgotten. We deal with it, constantly. When something's dead, that's it. It returns to the Lifestream, to the source of everything and everyone. We know this, every single one of us, as an unalterable truth of existence. Some of you have had to make peace with that fact on a personal level, paired to those who have volunteered. I envy you the least."

She raised a hand. 

"We leave immediately. travel in groups of no more than three. Move at no more than a walk along the public avenues. Do nothing alone. The other Convocation members aren't _idiots_. We've all learned how to travel unobserved due to the delicate nature of our work. Don't get caught, and if you do head instead to my personal territory. Draw their eye as subtly as you can so that they don't take you in."

Eschaton lowered her hand. 

"Any questions?"

"What about our work here, in the Hanging Gardens?" She glanced over, noting one of the newer members to their line of work, and nodded slowly. 

"A good question. Pack what we can. Leave what we can't. Don't overburden yourself, we all are going to need to move fast. Don't leave them anything useful if you can help it. And remember, use the buddy system. Any other questions?"

Nobody spoke up. Determination shone from each and every soul gathered before her, some laced with bitterness, others with a deep mourning. She nodded, and gestured towards the doors. 

"Then go. Spread the word only to others of our ilk. Read their souls carefully beforehand to ensure they are such."

The room around her exploded into activity once more. 

* * *

She was in her apartment, their apartment, _his_ apartment now, she supposed. Everything she needed was tucked away into her pack. She did a circuit of the living room just in case she saw something else she might have wanted to bring with her. 

A hand was lifted and idly dragged across the spines of the books that lined the bookshelves inset into the walls before she turned to stare at the couch. 

He'd hated that couch. 

A great big, ugly thing, it dominated part of the living room. She was running late, and didn't have time for this she mused to herself. They were due to start their little ritual within half a bell, and she had already spent more time than she should have helping everyone get out. Not for the first time was she glad that everyone could move quickly. 

She moved towards the counter, setting her note down and then shifting it across the counter as she tried to figure out the best place for it. Striking upon an idea, she snapped her fingers and pulled a pomegranate out of thin air, setting it down and leaning the note against it. He loved pomegranates. He'd see it. 

Her head came up as the phone rang, and she let it ring twice before answering it as was her habit. 

"Eschaton speaking."

_~Good, you're home. You weren't answering your office line.~_

"Hythlodaeus? Good to hear from you, though I'm curious as to the why of it. I thought you were acting as security and helping with their ritual." She frowned, briefly reaching out with her aetheric senses. Had they arrived yet? There and... There. Two people with their focus turned towards the apartment. They were gone after a moment. 

_~I am. Lahabrea wanted to make sure you weren't going to cause a scene.~_

"I want no part in this." There and there, they were focusing on the apartment once more, though as she caught them they faded back into the crowd of souls that simply milled about, minding it's own business. "... Y'know, I'm actually feeling pretty tired. I think I might just nap for a bit until Emet-Selch gets back home. I'm sure he'll be tired after all this. Maybe I'll even make him a pomegranate." 

If her and her husband's best friend's pause was anything to go by, he wasn't buying it. Still, after a moment he simply hummed a response. 

_~...Alright. I won't keep you then, 'Ton. Good luck.~_

_Not_ goodnight? He knew. Of course he knew. He was the coordinator for the security and defense squads that helped protect the city. She frowned, before sighing and marking the two souls that watched her at a distance once more before they faded away again. 

"I'll need it. Something tells me I'll have at least two nightmares tonight before I get anything resembling real rest."

_~Really? I'd hazard a guess you might have triple that. You seemed rather upset at the others in the Convocation.~_

"A fair point. You just might be right about that. Goodnight, 'Daeus."

He hung up, and she turned their conversation over in her mind. A squad of six, set to watch her? Unheard of. Unprecedented. Then again, anyone else probably wouldn't be running away. 

She adjusted her grip on her pack, waited for the focus of the two she could feel to fade, and swathed her soul in the subtlest shades of _nothing_ she could before pushing open the door. 

* * *

They caught her just outside of the town. She led them on a merry chase, periodically letting her soul flare so that they had to scramble and realize she wasn't anywhere near the last place she had been. Her backpack had been left where one of her allies could pick it up and bring it with them. She had _planned_ for this. 

Of _course_ they would have watched her. She was her people's distraction. The longer she played hide and seek with the ones following her, the more people they'd bring in to help them and the fewer there would be monitoring the walls. Hythlodaeus had given her a heads up on how many they were starting with. It could only go up from there. 

Bound up in her own essence as she was to keep herself hidden, the only senses she had to rely on were the physical ones. That was okay. She was used to that. She was even able to lead them on a merry little chase for an entire bell before, once the ceremony completed and the massive, red and black crystaline form of Zodiark had manifested, she ambled into the middle of one of the walkways and held up her hands. 

Everything was cordial until she came across those with an odd stain across their hearts. Oh, not physically, but their souls, their hearts had a swirl of aether that looked particularly remeniscent of the massive crystal floating high above the city. They could all feel it hard at work, aether shifting and roiling, and she was shoved and pushed, tripped and pulled as she was escorted through the capitol and then subsequently led into the grand hall the convocation held their meetings in. 

The three of them, Lahabrea, Elidibus and Emet-Selch stood at the meeting table and watched as they dragged her in, bruised and battered, and when those escorting her tried to throw her to the ground she simply braced her step and shrugged them off, slowly straightening to stare at them. Silence reigned for a moment before she broke it. 

"I haven't done anything wrong."

"You betrayed us." Lahabrea folded his arms. "When the time came to summon Zodiark, you were confined to your apartment, and yet when your husband arrived you were nowhere to be seen."

"Funny, I remember that conversation differently, Speaker-" She was cut off as Elidibus raised a hand.

"Then let us speak plainly, so that henceforth there may be no misunderstandings. Go before Zodiark, profess your loyalty to Him and we can resume helping fix our broken Star."

"That depends, what's your next step? Awful lot of stick and very little carrot to be seen."

"The world is in shambles. It needs must be re-ordered. Rebuilt. The very land is poisoned, water acid and the air tainted." Emet-Selch stepped forward, holding his hands out imploringly towards her. "Please, 'Seph, we need you on this. You're the one that manages vegetation. We can't do this easily without you."

She wavered. She could see him fighting it, see the tendrils of darkness that had threaded around his core shift and recoil, growing smaller. And then Lahabrea, Speaker Extraordinaire, opened his mouth.

"We will sacrifice half of the rest of those who yet remain to provide Zodiark with the power to-"

It was the wrong thing to say, and her husband _knew_ it. She could tell by the way he winced and let his arms fall.

"You want me to agree to the death of half of those that remain." Eschaton spoke slowly, carefully, as if trying to make sure she understood before lifting her head. She could read each soul in the room with her, their intentions and their moods, and knew diplomacy was a lost cause. "You know, I'd hoped to reason with you. I guess there's not enough of who you were left to do so with, if you think I'd ever go along with that."

Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his mask, sighing. "We don't have a choice-"

"There's ALWAYS a choice!" She threw her arms out to the sides, and reconsidered her words as she studied the swirling tendrils of _influence_ that had altered her co-workers. "... No... That's not right any more. Not for you. Each and every one of you has darkness in your heart now. I guess he's taken that ability away from you."

"You DARE!" Lahabrea surged forward, rounding the table and bringing both hands up as if he meant to strangle her. He didn't make it half way before she raised a hand and looked at her husband, gathering her aether, proverbially tagging every part of herself so that nothing got lost in transit.

"I'm sorry." She said, as she snapped her fingers, before bursting into a thousand motes of lifetream and fading away. 

* * *

Eschaton sucked in a breath as she was spat out of the lifestream, rolling over to get her arms and legs under her, pushing herself up and staggering away. She had malms and malms of distance to travel before she reached the Wildlands, and all she had to rely on were her wits, her skills and her knowledge of the world at large. 

It wasn't much of a head start. They would have felt where she came out. All she could do for now was disappear and keep looking for a better answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods, naming conventions are -hard-, specially when you already have their true name and are trying to figure out what name to use for their -title-.  
First I looked into the hades and persephone mythology, to cement what I'm currently working off of and then looked into the naming conventions of the ascians, because their names are their titles and I will forever believe that their names are their Amaurotine Convocation titles so then I was looking at ffxii espers and  
well, things got a little out of hand.


	20. Eschaton (pt. 2)

They hunted her down. They gave half of all those left to fix the damage, and then they hunted her down like a traitor, like an animal. She never stopped moving, she ever stopped running, knowing that they would always be able to find her. He had her ring after all, made by his own hands out of her personal aether. She waited for him, out in the middle of nowhere, choosing some nameless stretch of jungle and hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe she could figure out a way to remove what everyone was calling 'tempering' now. 

Fitting, considering they had been tempered much the same way as steel could be. 

"Botanist."

"Architect." 

They stared at each other, wasting the precious moments they had before the others that had traveled with him arrived, armed and prepared to drag her back. The vibrant, royal amethyst of his soul had darkened into something vaguely plum-like at it's core, and the gold had paled somewhat, but she would have recognized him anywhere. Would have known that voice, anywhere.

"I see you all went ahead with your plan." She gestured to the world around them, robes mud-spattered and torn in places. She was exhausted, tired of running, fatigued by searching for an answer that didn't seem to exist. "What's next, then?"

"You don't have to run any more. I've spoken with them, and we came up with a better way. A way that doesn't cost the lives of our people." 

Star, but he was so hopeful. She could see it in the way he held himself, cautiously excited. It reminded her of the young man that she had grown up with, of the little boy she had gone out and caught frogs in the ponds with.

It made her heart _ache_, to know that this was all that was left of him. 

"Oh? Go on, Lovely." She couldn't help but use her pet name for him as she idly turned and started to walk, and he fell into step with her. "This should be good."

"We will cultivate the star until it is rich and verdant, madly blooming with life, and then we will give his life to Zodiark and he will return our people to us."

"That's not how the cycle of life works, Emet-Selch." She paused, glancing to her left and right, noting the positions of everyone in the area, of the animals, listening to the trees as they swayed and spoke of _here, and there_ before simply continuing on ahead. She reached out silently, tracing a hand along part of a treetrunk, silently asking them to leave him alone for the moment, and they remained cautiously still. "They're gone. You want to get their souls and aether back? Dig them out of your god."

"Suffused with the aether of plants and animals, He will return them, they will be restructured and-"

"And what about -their- souls?" She couldn't help but snap at him, irritation breaking through to buoy her over the edge of the bone-deep weariness that she had lived with for the past decade. "The souls of every plant and animal? Life's a life. Besides, you and I both know that any aether used for the construction of a Primal is reordered and washed clean of it's ego to make room for its own."

"-Please-, 'Seph, it's a **tree**. Come back with me. We can still set this right."

She sighed and stopped. Of course, he didn't understand. His domain was with the culled materials, with everything left over after the soul passed on. Somewhere to their left something light blue flit out and settled onto the hand she outstretched towards it in invitation. A bird, with darker blue banding along the tips of it's wings and tail feathers. It spoke to her of the _shadowed hearts_ that were trying to creep along, half a malm away and closing. 

"No, I don't think we can until you guys stop trying to kill things. Maybe the others can't see it because they don't work as closely with the creatures we make, but I know better." Maybe... Maybe she could convince him. Maybe, alone as they were, he would hear her words and _listen_ to them. "Everything has an aether, has a soul, and has a name. Everything that dies is reborn, but all those memories are lost so that it can start over. So that it can explore and enjoy and learn and be delighted with everything all over again. Even our people aren't above this law, Hades. Even if you manufacture their memories, it won't be them. I hope you never have to learn that the hard way."

She didn't have to turn to even look at him as his irritation spiked, knowing he was about to protest and held up a hand to forestall him.

"Some death is necessary. Death on this scale? Sacrifice and martyrism of this degree? We could have fixed the world ourselves over the generations needed to do so. Our people's creation magics are still intact. We didn't need to kill more people to do so. But your god demanded it, and so it was done, countless lives stuffed into a crystalline maw that hungers ever after."

It was the wrong thing to say. The tendrils coiled about his heart thickened, growing stronger as they drank down his frustration.

"And what would you know about that? You left! You refused to talk it out with the other Convocation members." He was angry now,hand clenched so tightly that the ring - **her** ring - was digging into his skin almost painfully and she could feel his pulse through it as if it was a second heartbeat. An echo of her own. But no, he couldn't, or wouldn't, hear her. She stopped, feeling the secure thrum of _I have you_ through the soles of her boots, and she carefully tucked the bird onto the branch in front of her, out of sight of her husband with a tired and quiet sigh.

"Even you won't listen to me, Lovely. If you won't, do you really think the rest of them would?"

"Fine. You refuse to see reason? I'll take you to Zodiark myself, and you will see the truth of it." He reached out, reaching for her arm and she bitterly sent out a silent _Rise_ to the tree she was standing next to, balancing as it pushed up out of the soil to lift her out of reach of Hades. His voice was tight with panic. "Get back here!"

"No, Hades. I'm sorry, but-"

"If you refuse, then that's it!" He snarled at her, desperate, frustrated, enraged. He sliced his hand through the air, a tight, roiling ball of emotions through which fear and darkness threaded "Then we're **THROUGH!**"

Her anguish flared and she snapped it up, stuffed it into a proverbial box even as she failed to remember how to breath. For a long moment she stood there, motionless, silent, and some part of her was dimly aware of the very trees whispering, murmuring, screaming that _they were coming, they were coming, flee, find freedom_...

But she would never be free, so long as he could find her. She could break later, for now...

"'Seph-"

Eschaton ignored the quiet horror that had filled his voice, and _chose_. 

She snapped her fingers, invoking the power of _Flow_, and used the aetheric state of being to reach out and pull the structural integrity and her own essence from the ring. When she came out of the Lifestream, she was in a taiga forest, and immediately recognized it as one a safe distance away from the jungle, a safe distance from the Wildlands, and a safe distance away from her people. Some part of her, that rational, logical part of her that was holding her together for the moment realized how bad of an idea a blind jump like that had been, but it meant that the chances of people finding her were slim to none even if they felt the pulse of power.

Good. 

She pushed her way through the needle-laden branches of a wayward pine and curled up as the box that held the shattered pieces of her heart collapsed. 

Only the wolves could hear her howl, and sensing the abject misery of a kindred soul rose to join the chorus.

* * *

"So that's it then. We have no choice. They won't listen to us, but... With what we've learned, so long as people keep using creation magics the same thing is going to happen, be it a millenia from now or ten. Their Primal has a chokehold over the planet, but given time even it will fail. Not that everything will last that long anyways." 

The voice came to her as if from a distance, and Eschaton realized that she had been staring at the same spot for the past ten minutes, barely paying any attention. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced at the others gathered around her. 

"You've all bandied about the idea." Her words were quiet, and everyone leaned forward to hear her. "You've asked, time and time again why we don't make a Primal of our own. I would not remove people's free will. Two wrongs don't make things right. Sure, it's theorized that if we design it in mind with no ability to temper people, that would clear it of any _moral_ conundrums, but there's still the fact that we'd have to draw on vast amounts of power to do what we need."

"What if..." That tiny voice. It was the same one that had asked about their work in the Hanging Gardens, and she hesitated as everyone looked at her. "... What if you tie it into the Lifestream _after?_ So that it isn't drawing power, but it isn't losing any. A conduit, part of the cycle."

"Like using a livewire current." She slowly lifted her head, blinking at this carrot-orange and emerald soul. 

"And plants have sturdier souls than animals. The Wildlands is vast, and if you hit everywhere at once for a little bit-"

"No, it wouldn't be enough. Even if I took all of us with it." Anyone could do the mental math. It could, undoubtedly, provide something powerful but not _that_ powerful. Not something as strong as half of the entire population of Amaurot. Still... "... Unless... We could agitate the aether enough for an explosive result and use that resulting force, that single instant, and use _that_ to fuel the birth of it."

There was excited murmuring, before she pushed herself up. 

"Alright. Who here's unusually good at aether explosions and accidents?"

* * *

The design was the effort of three long, hard years. They had come with a way to agitate and accelerate aether based off of some systems that they had used in the city as well as to generate power in some of their other campsites. They had time to finish three of them before their scouts started disappearing, and before long the very trees themselves were letting them all know that _they're here, they've found you, flee, fight!_

She refused to sacrifice any of them. 

Genies, in all the fantasy tales, granted three wishes. Three was a _powerful_ number. She split herself, split her power, her hopes and her desires into three, so that each could make one wish, and each of her knew what would happen, knew it's end, and her people spread out into the woods. This was the end, one way or another. 

She was Eschaton. Ends were her domain. It wasn't supposed to apply to her people, but everyone knew what they were getting into. If this was to be her end, then she would have it be _such_ an end...

She trecked up the mountains, settling in three separate points. She had heard Hades as she slipped through the woods, and asked them to send a white hart to lure him all the way up and through the pass to where she settled. It didn't take much more than an hour for the beast to appear and then take off running as his pace slowed. 

"Persephone-"

"You don't get to call me that any more, Emet-Selch."

He didn't. They were no longer a pair. Her true name was no longer his to utter, and she was glad of it for the sound of it from his lips struck through to the very heart of her. He was silent for a long moment, and she watched his soul as he struggled with it.

"He wants you to kill me, doesn't he. Every time you see me, that swirl of darkness around your heart **squeezes**." She kept her voice soft, almost neutral. Her desire to see him one last time was fulfilled. At least she wouldn't accidentally wish for him, now. "Well, it's too late for that now. I'm already dying."

"What... did you do." She felt the way he brushed against her soul, trying to gain some measure of understanding. She gave him nothing. She gave him less than nothing. One of her desires, one of the secret, hidden lesser ones, was that he hurt for breaking her heart. She watched as the tendrils pulsed about his heart, and confusion eased through him.

Across the Wildlands, across the forest, Elidibus had found her hopes.

_("What are you doing here?" He asked her. She looked at him sadly. _

_"If I told you, you'd try and stop it.")_

"If I told you, you'd try and stop it." She turned towards him, towards them, hands cupping something, hiding it, shielding it from his senses and sight. "I can't let him devour everything." _Devour -you-, my Lovely._ "I'm sorry."

_("I'm sorry." She said, still looking at him sadly. Her power was greatest there, if he tried to take it from her by force it would end poorly for him._

_Lahabrea snorted, folding his arms. "You never think these things through. We could have been happy, everything could have gone back the way it was, if only you had cooperated."_ _)_

"What did you **do!?**" He stared, aghast as she parted her hands, as every one of her parted their hands. It was a short chunk of crystal she held cupped in the palm of one hand now, within which a compacted aetheric accelerator vibrated madly, straining against it's container. Each piece of her lifted the other hand and he lunged, knowing in an instant what she was about to do. 

_(Lahabrea stared at her, gaping like a landed fish as she moved, rooted as her power washed out to keep him back, keep him at bay._

_"Surely there must be some way we can talk this out," said Elidibus, cautious and wary of this fragile, unstable thing she carried.)_

She smiled grimly at him, at them, before stepping back and plummeting off the cliff. He was too slow, too far away to do more than end up leaned over the cliff, reaching as she fell, watching as she snapped her fingers for a final time in three parts. Her aether surged as she reached out and pulled, asking, seeking, cradling the rush of energy that suffused her before she ignited her own aether and crushed the crystals she carried and her world exploded into white-hot pain.

_One day, let's all meet up again. Another day, in another place, let's all look forward instead of back. _

_It was our fault, after all. It's only right that we pay the price to clean it up. One day, our people might even live again, but until then..._

_Remember. Remember what we did wrong. Remember what we did **right**._

_Remember me. Remember us. _

_Remember... _

_That we lived._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Changed fifth shard to fourth, because I finally mapped it out and went 'well shit I missed by one, fourth shard was the first one to be rejoined with WIND

"'Tis more than passing strange. Echo flashes do not often lay her low any more, though I fear she hath overused the Echo Pulse to remain standing this day and that what we doth see before us is the price."

"_You_ told me she was fine. Each and every one of you said she would, and I paraphrase, _walk it off_." The words were hissed out, seething with barely contained malice. 

_(She'd know that voice anywhere.)_

"Her body is hale and hole, Ascian. Thou may discern such for yourself, and has, to which I thus say no lie was told. With Hydaelyn's weakening state, the Warrior of Light hath attempted to be somewhat more careful with her deaths, so as to avoid o'ertaxing the Echo Pulse. Dids't thou care to count how many lethal strikes she hath taken this day?" The words came out with a tired cadence, patient and close. 

_(<strike>She drifted. Everything was broken, she was broken... what had she been doing? Did it matter? Why was 'Daeus looming over her, didn't he know she could **feel** the proximity of his soul like static across her skin no matter how subtle he made himself? That was why she always won their little games of hide and seek that he called 'training'.)</strike>_

"Six, that I saw." The words were ground out, laced and laden with weight as he choked back on his anger, on his fear. "However, she was already wounded when I broke into Eden's core and could progress no further."

_(Getupgetupgetupgetupgetup-_

_People **-need-** me)_

"Thou hath brought her before me, because thou trusts my intentions towards her. So trust my words when I say that she shall awaken, and soon-"

_(**He** needs me._

_But she was drifting away again, sinking slowly...)_

She very faintly heard cursing, and somewhere, someone was snarling about _Fine, I'll fix her myself!_ and then lips were near her ear, whispering softly, heartbreakingly sadly even as his aether vibrated a line of four syllables that poured into her, reaching into the very core of her. 

** _<<Persephone...>>_ **

_Pain radiated through her, white-hot and sharp and filled with grief._

_(<strike>You don't get to call me that any more.)</strike>_

The Warrior hit consciousness with all the force of someone slamming facefirst into a pool, sucking in a breath and struggling as she tried to sit up. One of her hands slapped across a forearm that was hastily drawn back before gloved hands caught both of them, and her world came into sharp focus as she blinked and squinted around. Everything was dark? Oh. It was night time.

"How long was I out?"

Emet-Selch covered his face with a hand as he sighed. "Millenia." 

"A handspan of hours." Urianger shot the Ascian a sharp glance, and he ignored it as he stood and pulled the Warrior up with him. "Thine Echo Pulse hath laid you low this time."

"Really? Man, it's been a while. I guess that _was_ a lotta times, though." She stretched, lips pursing as the newer scars tugged oddly across her torso. 

"What did you learn." Emet-Selch had lifted his voice into a patronizing buzz as he folded his arms and stared down at her. 

"Uhhh... You want the honest answer?" She squinted at him, and he huffed, looking away. "Twelve, I'm _starving_. Remember when I used to be out for a week after fighting like that? I feel like I've been out that long and as hungry as I would be when I wake up after to boot."

"Let us retreat down to the camp and partake in some of the rations and supplies we hath brought with us to this empty place." Pushing himself up, the elezen brushed his skirts off and started to make his way towards the aether flow that would take them down. The Warrior nodded and ambled along after him, before pausing and glancing back to Emet-Selch.

He couldn't do this, he realized. Being so close, and yet so far for so long, even watching as she saw whatever it was that she was seeing through the Echo, it was _agonizing. _He was -old-, he couldn't change now, couldn't adapt any more, he'd had a purpose and she had sundered him to tear the comfortable trappings of a true follower of Zodiark from him. She was _right_ _there, _ yet she had never been farther from him. This horrible, half-broken monstrous _thing_ with it's faded, washed-out impossible hue of the bluest blue that kept _stabbing_ him with hope, kept tearing at his old heart, kept _trying_-

"Hey."

He hummed conversationally, reluctantly looking at her as he folded his arms. She was watching him in turn, _really_ watching him, sad and cautious, hopeful and tired. It wasn't her fault. Only, _really,_ it was. 

"You coming?"

"-Please-, do you think me some manner of masochist, to get off on misery?" The quip fell, tumbling from his mouth in the form of a crude joke as he slid the mask of an easy smile over his face. 

She laughed, easily, lightly, ignoring the fact that the smile was false and beckoning him over to join her. He did, sidling along at an easy amble as they both headed towards the aether flow.

That was all that mattered.

* * *

"When thou envisions the elements, what is it that thou sees in thy mind's eye?"

"Uhh... Moogles?" She didn't -like- what the astrologian was getting at, and he gave her an exasperated, if good-humoured look. "What. All I'm hearing is a lot of flirting with 'hey guys let's summon primals' and I mean, we've got a perfectly good expert here on it and a perfectly good expert on putting them back down, but isn't that... Y'know, -dangerous-?"

Emet-Selch was beside himself with subdued laughter, shoulders shaking as he tried not to interrupt. Perfectly good expert indeed... The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.

"Eden doth act as an overly large aether converter, with the capacity to also create physical manifestations woven from that very self-same aether." He gestured to Ryne, who was positively beaming. "Miss Ryne hath divined a method to invert the paths and channels that Eden draws aether so that, instead of producing stilled, light-based aether it might instead drain that very element and thusly regurgitate it back out in whatever shape or form we hath chosen." 

"Right, well-" The Warrior was interrupted by the yawn that split her face, and she stretched even as she scrubbed at her eyes. "-I'm not quite ready yet to get the shiiiahhh-stuffing, to get the stuffing kicked out of me. So while you lot figure that out, I'ma see if I can't figure out what type of bribe I might need to get taken back to the Crystarium. I feel _fragile_ an' I don't like it."

"Oh no, this one's _free_. The fact that you contemplate the summoning of Primals - a purely Ascian thing to try! - to resolve a crisis and situation tickles me." Emet-Selch dropped his hand from where he had been covering his mouth, grinning slyly. 

"Really? Nice. Anyone need anything that we can bring back? That isn't incredibly heavy and-or awkward to carry aetherical experiment equipment?" She glanced at Thancred, who unfolded his arms and sighed. 

"Books. Something to do while I sit on my thumb and wait." 

"Can do. Ryne?" She glanced at the girl, who shifted slightly and looked thoughtful. 

"Some raisins, if you wouldn't mind. I like them, but I forgot to pack them as a snack." 

"Done and done. Urianger? You want nothing? Good." 

The Elezen gave her an amused, tolerant look and shook his head as the Warrior asked and answered for him.

"Some green teas, if thou wouldst be so kind."

She shot him a thumbs up before reaching out to snag the Ascian's hand, smiling up at him as he huffed out a soft laugh and snapped his fingers to pull them both through a patch of darkness, spitting them both out in her rooms. Everything was innocently the same way it had been, but the hair on the back of her neck had started to stand up as the silence settled. 

A glance here, and a glance there, and they certainly seemed to be alone, but then she glanced up at Emet-Selch and noted that he was looking as if he found something just _hilarious_ and as if he was contemplating mischief. The faintest sound of cloth rustling came from the empty space near the bed, and she pressed her lips together to try and keep herself from laughing. 

"Well~!" She said instead, just a little louder than she would have had to to speak with the Ascian beside her. "I _guess_ we better go and get what everyone needs! _Books_ for Thancred, _snacks_ for Ryne and _tea_ for Urianger."

"Ohh, not to mention _food_ for yourself." Emet-Selch had matched her cadence, and together they walked very deliberately towards the foor before he paused and snapped his fingers as if forgetting something. "Oh, _do_ excuse me for a moment, I left something by your _bed_."

_Be nice_ she mouthed to him, and he smirked as he turned and made his way over to the nightstand, leaning and stretching an arm out to tease the drawer open an ilm or so. His hand dipped in, and he continued to hold himself as if he was leaning past someone before he came up with one of her flasks. Closing the drawer, he turned and started back towards them as ever so faintly, a partial breath was let out in relief drifted through the air behind him. 

"Well now, shall we go and see what the _Exarch_ is up to while we are in town?" Dramatically handing over the flask with a flourish, the Ascian smirked as she she stifled a snort and nodded. 

"Why of _course_! But, y'know, we've got _all this stuff_ to do first, so there's _loads_ of time left." They stepped out in tandem, closing the door behind them before both rushing to press their ears against it as silently as they could. 

A moment of nothing, and then- 

There was a quiet thunk of crystal hitting the marble floor and a relieved wheeze from within the room, and they both grinned at each other as they snuck away to give G'raha Tia a moment to recover from his 'close encounter'.

* * *

"Man, timing." They were sitting at the bar, their shopping tucked against the foot of the table as they contently munched on a sandwich and a salad apiece. "Wish I coulda seen his face! That rat bastard though, sneaking into my rooms while I'm out." 

"Hero worship at it's finest." Emet-Selch gestured playfully with the fork, indicating all of her. "Though, he very likely did not expect me to teleport you to your rooms. Perhaps he believed Urianger would have taken you to the Aetherite and that he would have had time to escape, linked to it and the Tower as he is."

"I should get the biggest, thickest pleasure-toy I can and just leave it laying out somewhere for him to find in my rooms. Would serve him right, and I'd know the next time he did by how well he matched his hair." She was grinning, imagining his horrified expression and reaching for her brandy. 

"Ohh, or, conversely, as big a bottle of lubricant as you can. Scented, of course. He could steal some of it and you would know justhow deep his worship of you goes." The Ascian wiggled his eyebrows, and she choked as she just about passed her drink through her nose. He laughed at her, before handing a napkin over so that she could dab at her face even as he leaned in. "Make it a remarkable scent, and sniff him should any be missing. You wish for his face to turn red? That would do quite nicely."

"Twelve, we're both just _horrible_ people, aren't we." She blew her nose, sniffing and blinking her watering eyes before setting the napkin away and picking up her sandwich once more with a grin on her face. "Nah, I -can't-, he's too precious and old in ways that might not let him survive a heart attack of that level." 

The Ascian quirked a brow at that, leaning his head slightly and pursing his lips. She was quick to raise a hand. 

"Hey! He's _physically_ older than your body, and you _know_ how squishy things get after too long. 'Sides, I've a better idea for revenge." She took a moment to eat a bite of her sandwich as Emet-Selch sipped his drink. "... Ahh~... So, What I want to do, and you're _very_ important for this..."

* * *

She stretched idly out on the bed as the Ascian idly rifled through the piles and piles of books even as he ever so carefully placed them back in the order they had been stacked in. "I _knew_ you could open a window."

"-Please-, who do you think helped them _build_ the Crystal Tower? He _has_ noticed, however, and is on his way."

"Good. I hope you enjoy the show." She flashed him a smirk and he huffed out an amused sound even as a ripple of darkness shunted him away. She tucked her hands behind her head even as the door to the Exarch's quarters snapped open. The Tia in question had his staff leveled, prepared for an intruder-

And then balked, catching sight of the Warrior where she was glancing over. 

"Hey G'raha."

"Hero, I-... This is unexpected. What brings you here at such an hour?" He glanced around. Everything seemed to be where he had left it, except for the inexplicable hole that now adorned one wall at window height through which a gentle breeze flowed. "How...?"

"Oh, y'know, _sneakin'_." She sat up, before ambling over. "What, that? Eh, I wouldn't worry about it. Place seemed pretty stuffy. 'Sides! Now it's easier to meet the challenge you laid down for me."

"Challenge?" He shifted uncomfortably, face heating up. 

"Yeah. You _did_ challenge me to a sneak-off, right? Well, I've upped the ante." The Warrior gestured around the room as she made her way to the window. "I've changed three things in your rooms. The first was the window, the second was the bed. The third, you'll just have to figure out for yourself." 

"My..." He studied the room. The bed had swapped ends, true to form, and red eyes narrowed as he searched, trying to find what exactly else might be different. She clambered up onto the sill and hooked a leg over. 

"Welp! I'll leave you to it!"

"Wait-!"

He rushed over, peering down at where she was sliding down sections of crystal and kicking off of jagged protrusions that would have otherwise skewered her or caught her. Fidgeting, he turned back to his room and leaned his staff against the wall. 

Well now, awkward embarrassment aside (there was a pile of laundry he had yet to do in one corner, after all) his Hero had taken something he was ashamed of and turned it into a _game_. He was reminded of the aethersand, and smiled. He supposed he had time enough to play, for a little while at least...

* * *

"Do you think he'll ever realize that the third thing's just the number of people that've been to his room? Or is that too vague." She was lounging on a domed roof, watching the sunset with her back to a weather vane and contently munching on a handful of trail mix as Emet-Selch drifted along and hovered beside her.

"Possibly too abstract, still I am pleased to confirm that he practically tore his room apart in an effort to find whatever it could have been, paced a great deal and then started installing a curtain for the window I gave him." He touched down on the dome beside her, gently nudging her thigh with the toe of a boot to get her to shift over a little bit and share the weather vane. She did, and as he sat down the Warrior leaned against him. 

"It's going to bug him. My gift to you, Hades." She gestured vaguely. "The ability to tease him about it at your leisure. Snacks?"

He cupped one hand, and she obligingly poured some of the contents of the paper bag into his grasp and then went back to watching the sunset. 

"What's your favourite thing that you ever built?"

_The Hanging Gardens._ "Why, my little Monster, what a question out of the blue. Whatever brought this on?"

"You're the Architect. Not even just _an_ architect, -the- Architect. Capital 'ey'. You've dipped your fingers into all the major creations over the ages. there must have been _something_ that you enjoyed making. How does the Crystarium hold up?" She watched him, curious, and he let a thoughtful frown crease his brow. 

"You would think it would be some grand structure or monument, however, after the Sundering I would have to say those little lockets that can play sections of orchestrations. Terribly fiddly little things, and so very difficult to duplicate." He had finished his handful, and was brushing his gloves off against his thigh even as he glanced over to eye the bag. She obligingly offered it out to him, and he reached to pull out another small handful. "Within them I could lock away the fragments of tunes that would find themselves stuck in my mind, echoes of an era long past, and lay them to rest."

"That's... A mixed bag've nuts. But I get it. I get songs stuck in my head all the time." She grinned over at him, before looking back at the sunset to catch the last of it. "And the Crystarium? How's it hold up to your structural standards?"

"I find myself pleasantly surprised. A little _round_ for my tastes, perhaps, but centered thematically around such an odd structure as the Tower 'tis fitting I find. I tend towards the sturdier squared shapes, personally. Far easier to plan for expansion when everything has the proper dimensions. My turn for a question." The Ascian didn't look over, and simply narrowed his eyes as the orange across the horizon continued deepening into pinks and purples. "What would you do, if I told you that I never wished to see you again in this mortal lifetime."

She froze beside him. He ignored it, staring unseeing at the sky, taking some personal, vindictive pleasure in the way her aether recoiled as if he had slapped her across the face. 

"... Probably be real sad, to start." The Warrior spoke slowly, quietly, blindsided by the question and trying to puzzle out where it might have come from. "Drink lots, that always helps as much of a bad idea as that is. It's not like it does more than put off the troubles that would turn me to drink, after all. I dunno, I can't imagine playing too many pranks. It'd be like after you left the bathtub and didn't seem to want to come back. I sort've threw myself into helping other people and kept myself too busy to dwell on it much, and even then exhaustion didn't do more than take the edge off."

He had seen that. He had watched her grow listless and tired, seen her grow quiet every time she had a moment to herself before she would give herself a shake and go to try and find someone else that needed help. He had watched her soul go from hopeful and curious to almost grey with resignation and doubt as she sat on the beach, watching the waves as a chocolate cake went stale beside her. She had started becoming cruel with her jokes and her words.

She had _missed_ him, and the thought of it made his chest ache worse than it did when he considered staying.

Emet-Selch's posture slumped slightly, and he gave her a nudge with an elbow, tone light. "So I suppose asking for a _vacation_ is out of the question then."

She turned and swatted at him, thwapping her hand across his upraised forearm as she huffed. "Don't _scare_ me like that! Here I am wondering how the hells I'd screwed up this time, and you're just playing! That was seven kinds of mean!"

"-Please-, I've put forth more effort in the last two months in your presence than I did in the time between the end of Soluz zos Galvus and the fit Elidibus threw begging me to come back. I was ever so briefly _retired_ until then, enjoying a quaint little beach on the Fourth."

"I forgot about that." She admitted, peering down into the bag to pick out a pretzel. "That there's others. I mean, I didn't -really-, you'd have to be some kind've _idiot_ to forget about the shards made by the sundering, but it's like... It's like you grow up in one place, and never really hear about other places, so they don't even really mean much to you. Oh sure, you might've _heard_ of them but they're so far out of reach..."

"Many have a similar mindset when it comes to others. Oh, certainly, you may have _heard_ of a ruling class noble, but if you never see them, and you never cross their lands, then 'tis no wonder you stare blankly at the mention of their name." He absolved her, as best he could, and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Zodiark's Mercy, but that was one of the most _awful_ parts of being Emperor. keeping track of all the little twists and turns of the lineages of the nobles and citizenry. I had to do so to ensure I wasn't upsetting anyone by neglecting to invite them to one of my - what did you call them? Boring Garlean orgy parties?"

"I dunno, your memory's better than mine so probably." She snickered, rolling the open end of the bag down and then inverting it with a bit of a twist to keep it shut and loosely secured. "Oh, that reminds me. Is it true that you had a grand total of _thirteen_ women try and sneak into your quarters on one've your birthdays? I'd heard that you kept finding them and making them walk the walk of shame."

The Ascian rolled his eyes. "-Please-, and wherever did you hear this, exactly?"

"King Titania. They got bored one day and apparently started looking into your history as the Garlean Emperor in some attempt to... I dunno if they were trying to get me to _dislike_ you or just wanted to tell me funny gossip stories, but hooo boy. I don't think I should've called them -boring- Garlean orgy parties." She fanned herself with one hand and Emet-Selch huffed out an amused sound. 

"Thirteen is a _gross_ exaggeration." He blinked as she turned to face him, looking surprised. "What. T'was only six of them, and never more than two apiece. I was looking for a _legal wife_ at the time, and I will say that my heart simply was not in it beyond the idle pleasure of a brief distraction and the necessity to found a lineage."

"Hey, I'm not judging you. Just trying to think about how unwilling I'd be to _share_ and lamenting how high the bar's been set." She pushed herself to her feet, stretching and snickering before offering him a hand up. He took it, tisking and then adjusting his coat about her shoulders. 

"With your inexplicable ability to climb surfaces that ought to be _impossible_, I have every faith that you shall simply find a way."

"Why, Emet-selch, I'd almost think you were either inviting me or challenging me to try." She gasped and tucked both hands on her hips, studying him as he smirked at her. 

"Why, you would _almost_ think so, wouldn't you~..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raunchy humour bits in this chapter brought to you by the tweet where the Exarch is talking to the Scions and Emet-Selch is making lewd gestures behind him.  
I've got the link saved but anyone can find it by doing a google search for 'Emet-Selch twitter', clicking the first link (that's the one it was for me at least) and then scrolling down a little bit.  
It gave me a much needed laugh after that cry-fest that had me going through tissues like they were going out of style.


	22. Chapter 22

He had always been very honest and open about how much he liked to _watch_. Considering he only slept to dream, and that his dreams of late had him waking up, shaking and filled with the bitter sadness of grief and loss for the life long since passed he instead opted to observe her face as she slept. Studied the soul tucked up next to him and tried so very hard to look past the broken state it existed in and catalog every little shift and twitch of it. 

How did she do it, he wondered. Even among those who shared the pitiable short time they had to live with her, she had an extraordinary talent for focusing only on the moment. She made it seem almost _effortless_, too. He envied her for it.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, brows furrowing, lips moving as she incoherently muttered something about cookies before pouting. The Ascian huffed a soft sound of amusement, before a faint swirl of darkness across the room started to rouse her. He soothed her with a gentle brush of his hand along the side of her facebefore sighing and sitting up. 

"I would have thought you would have gotten tired of her by now."

"Between you and the Exarch lurking in her rooms 'tis a wonder she finds any rest here whatsoever." Raking a hand back through his hair to give it some semblance of order, he glanced over at Elidibus and quirked a brow. "Finally finished panicking at a believed loss of my skills for the cause?"

"Emet-Selch, you are very _openly_ assisting them. They actively seek to use your own creation to reset the balance of this shard that you, personally, worked to set into motion. What conclusion am I to draw from this, beyond that without your tempering you have turned traitor to the cause, and no longer seek the Ardor?" The white-clad Ascian folded his arms. "I want to believe you better than this, better than them, but by all accounts you have stooped to their level of existence and refuse to move forward."

"'Tis all very complicated from your point of view." Shifting his legs off the side of the bed, the Architect reached to tuck the edge of the blanket around the Warrior who mumbled incoherently, soul swirling slightly. "And yet, I have accomplished more here, working with them personally than you or Lahabrea managed to given the comparative amount of time we have worked together. Has it been necessary to make concessions? Yes. 'Tis a matter of give and take, but truly, what do I lose by indulging myself? She will refuse to kill me should it come to it, and all I must needs do is wait for her to die of old age should it truly come to it. The Ardor has been an undertaking of the ages, it can _wait_ a handspan of decades longer than it already will."

"Then speak. What is it that you have achieved that is worth the carefully laid plans we had for the First?" 

"She _remembered_. Ever so briefly, her soul lit up and t'was _her__s_ again." Emet-Selch couldn't keep the note of wistful sadness from his voice, and so he didn't try particularly hard before he sighed. "She put together Lahabrea's ramblings and, while marginally off the mark, has gained a rough grasp of why the Ardor is important. What I have to lose is time and effort. What I have to gain, is her potential strength to the greatest of endeavors."

The Emissary was quiet for a moment, thinking about it. "... She will refuse. She could never condone the loss of what she considered life, regardless of how small it was. That she viewed these fractured existences as full people is part of the problem, and your attempts to convince her otherwise have... Backfired." 

The Architect waved a hand idly. "They are as animals or _trees_, barely worth considering whether or not they count as people. Ergo, answer is obvious and apparent to any whom would spend a moment to consider their nature. But enough of that. How fares Garlemald? Found a suitable puppet yet?"

"I have found it prudent to gather myself and reconsider my options as I weigh the worth of potential candidates. The newest Ascian-hunter has continued to cause... Problems."

"What, that fool Gaius? I would have thought that bouncy, white-haired Dragoon boy would be a greater cause for concern." Emet-Selch paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Do you suppose he leaps twelve fulms straight up when startled?"

"I neither know nor care to." The Emissary folded his arms. "You have always done as you saw fit, no more, no less."

"Naturally. She lives as vibrantly as any of the fragments can, and amuses me so. Very rarely is there a boring moment in her presence." Stretching, the Architect sighed and then settled one hand on his knee, the other scratching across his bare chest. "Now then, is there anything else? Or are you going to take up residence as the most recent observer from the aether. Please, I truly must know, how else will I know how grand of a morning performance I must put on."

He smirked as Ellidibus wrinkled his nose and grimaced, disgusted. 

"No, I will take my leave you with the simple reminder to be mindful of where your true loyalties lay."

And then he was gone, swallowed up by the shadows. 

* * *

"Wow, he sure took a full frontal of naked you in stride." The Warrior's voice was thick with sleep, and the Ascian twisted to quirk a brow at her. 

"I had _wondered_ if that shifting was you stirring or simply a change of scenery in your dreams."

"Nah, woke when you moved, but was tryin' to stay sorta asleep. You lot can see souls, so wondered if I could, I dunno, stay sluggish? Is that even what a soul does? Keep feeling the way I felt when mostly sleepin'." She stretched, before letting her head flop back down onto the pillow, head tilted to watch him in the darkness. "He's gone-gone, right?"

"He is. The threat of making him watch the utterly delicious things we might do was enough to drive him off."

"Shameless. You'd do it too. Can't say I'm terribly opposed to the idea, either. You got some really _nice_ things you can do when someone puts that mouth've yours to good use." The Warrior shifted slightly, fondly remembering their time spent at his house in Garlemald, and he smirked at her even as he swung his legs back up onto the bed and pulled the blanket over him. He settled onto his side, head propped up on his hand as he reached out to idly trace his fingers along her face. "'S gotta be another way."

"For?"

"Ardor. A way what won't murder everyone." The Warrior tilted her face to press a small kiss against the palm of his hand. "I _wanna_ fix the world, but I also wanna not mass murder. Everything's got it's soul, aether an-"

He leaned in, hushing her with a kiss and resting his forehead against hers. 

"I know. The elements, after all, have their own voice. 'Tis a secret of the Eschaton that was bound to their title. Every member of the Convocation had such a secret." Hades let out a tiny, mirthless laugh. "She tried to tell me. She said such point-blank to my very face, and all I could see was inanimate objects."

"I saw that. Hells, I saw it _twice,_ but you figured that out, didn't you. I wasn't quite... _Me_ when you woke me up, was I."

"What, the ridiculously vibrant, cracked fragment that you are? No. For the briefest, palest of moments..." Wistful mourning had laced his voice, and she reached up to cup the side of his face. 

"I'd wondered. That must've been a shit thing to see."

They stayed like that, faces close, hands stroking gently along each other's cheeks and brows before he shifted and scooted down enough to bury his face in the crook of her neck and slip an arm under her. She obliged him, tucking her arms around his head to cradle him against her. 

"Perhaps... A delicately asked question, as sharp as fractured crystal and as painful to utter as any blasphemy..." His voice was muffled, and as he wrapped his arms around her he closed his eyes and tried to keep his composure. 

"I hate to see you hurt, Hades, but... I'll answer one. Only the one, so make it good. Make it count."

"... Why... Why _me_? Why... Was I spared the Sundering?"

One of her hands stroked through his hair as the Warrior thought about the question, silent for a time before sighing. 

"Because you'd broken her heart, and a nasty, exhausted, nettled part of her wanted you to hurt for it. But, beyond that... Because she wanted to protect you, I think. She wanted you to remember her. She wanted you to live. I didn't see the Sundering, but what I did see... that's the answer I've got. And the summoner's got a big impact on how the Primal acts, after all. But hey, maybe if I ask you a question, it'll help ease your thoughts and distract you?"

His answer was a quiet hum, and she ducked her head to press a kiss against his hair. He tightened his arms around her in response. 

"If being able to hear the elements was her thing, what was yours? Something building-related?"

"... In part. An astounding attention to detail and crystal-clear memory. 'Tis how I recreated Amaurot, and why I carry the masks of the fallen across my aetheric form. I remember... Everything. Everything that I ever paid an iota of attention to." His voice was small, almost lost to the silence of the room, and she hummed before lapsing silent as he continued. "Paired with that, was an expansive inventory of schema and the ability to spontaneously create, or recreate, things that would have been beyond the capabilities of others. T'was expected that, should an entire city block be lost to an experiment, I would be able to recreate it right down to the exact ilm within a bell."

"Man, and all I got is stabbing things." She smirked slightly into his hair as he huffed, fingers curling against her back. "Alright, fair, I'm -really- good at that. But enough of this morbid, sad stuff for now. If I go back t'sleep, you're going to wallow in misery and I can't have that. Mood doesn't seem right to spar or sex, so how about we just go out and walk around? Watch folk?"

He had to admit, it was better than staying there

* * *

They did it her way. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to really -see- anything, after all. They crept through the back alleys, slipped over gates, perched on ledges and generally kept to the high places and walkways that didn't quite qualify as roofs. 

They saw a great many things. Mostly the people who worked late at night going about their business Someone forgot a wallet and they delivered it to them. Small things like that. 

There was a pair of teenagers that had snuck out of their rooms and were doing much the same that they were. Keeping high, the Ascian and the Warrior followed them at a distance, snickering as the mystel boy almost missed a jump and was caught by his partner, who hauled him up so that they could lay close to one another, breathless and laughing softly. They tracked them to a closed-off swimming area, and then left them to their mischief as they turned away and disappeared back into the night. 

Somewhere, in one of the rooms that had cracked a window open, a father was gently singing and rocking a child in his arms. The baby fussed, but slowly calmed as he continued. They listened to the soothing tune for a moment, before moving on. 

At length, they dropped down into another alley and walked out to the Wandering Stairs. He went to grab them a table as she headed to the bar and ordered drinks. At length, she returned and sat down beside him, sliding a glass of an amber coloured liquid over and raising hers in a toast. He scooped up his own glass and tapped it against hers with a clink, before they both drank. 

It was smooth and warmed him from the inside out. 

"Seems sorta weird, for moments like this to be what I fight for." She leaned her elbows against the table, idly sliding her drink back and forth along the surface between her hands. 

"Are they? I seem to recall some mention of fighting because if you stopped, you would be betraying all those whom had helped you get to where you are." He quirked a brow, and she chuckled. 

"I _did_ say that, yeah. And I meant it too. I still mean it. But this... It's the other half of it. The flipped side of the coin. yeah, sure, might seem horribly boring, but it's... Tranquil. Like watching someone sleep." She tilted her head, eyeing him with a grin. "Something of a hobby for some folks."

"Yes, you truly _should_ speak with the Exarch about that." He felt his lips quirk upwards, and she laughed easily even as she nudged him with an elbow. 

"I've been watched most've my life. Makes the moments I _do_ manage to disappear worth it. I like to think it reminds them that they can survive without me for all of ten minutes." She surveyed the raised area, noting the scarce few people scattered about the other tables. 

"They can, but only just." He took another sip of the drink she had brought for him, sighing contently as he studied it. 

"... Gil for your thoughts?" 

"What, exactly, is this drink? No, _don't_ tell me, I am content to puzzle it out on my own." He flashed her a smirk as she chuckled and sipped her own drink. "Yourself?"

"_Twelve_ you've got a frighteningly smart brain behind those beautiful pale gold eyes." She raised a hand as he quirked a brow. "What, you asked. I'm just about as dumb as a sack of rocks, compared to you."

"Lo and behold, Mighty Zodiark, your greatest foe. For we have been outdone, outfought, out maneuvered and our schemes all cast into ruins by... Someone 'about as dumb as a sack of rocks'." He lifted his glass as he made his proclamation, and she snorted. "Truly, you are too hard on yourself, Hero. While everything about you is half of what it should be, you have your own strengths and insights. Nine times rejoined, and look at you. Already off, preparing to summon your own Primals... They truly _do_ grow up so _fast_..."

She reached out to give him a light shove as he pantomimed wiping a tear from his eye. "Come off it. If this works, we're going to properly save the first just so you can have the pleasure of trashing it again after I'm gone. Decades of peace and prosperity for this shard. Just _think_ of it."

"I _do_ think of it. Quite often. With a great deal of frustration. Centuries in the planning, and you have utterly disrupted nearly all of our efforts here by _winging_ it. 'Tis almost embarrassing, if I may say so." He watched her, shifting to lean an elbow against the table and propped his head on his hand while sipping his drink once more. "Almost. Just think of how much quicker all of this would go if you but joined us. For all that we are believed to be agents of chaos, you yourself upset more carefully laid plans than we Ascians ever have."

"I think-" She hesitated, dropping her gaze to her glass and sliding it back and forth between her hands along the table for a moment. "... I think... That I've come up with a compromise, but I dunno. So I'm going to lay it out slowly, and... Well, I _think_ it might work? But I'm the exact _opposite_ of an expert when it comes to souls."

"Wonderful. I _love_ this game." Emet-Selch unenthusiastically finished his drink before setting his glass down between her hands and stealing hers so that he could take a sip from it. "The 'well have you tried _this?_' game often played by those attempting to find a solution. The answer is, more than likely, yes we _have_ tried that-"

"Yeah yeah, I know, but I gotta ask anyways. Humour me." She gave him a slight smile, before starting to slide his empty cup across the table, passing it back and forth between her hands much the same way she had with her own. He rolled his eyes, obliging her with a nod of his head. "So. My moral issue, is that everyone's gotta die. That you're gunna kill everyone, right? So, what if people just died of natural causes, like old age, and you found a way to shunt those souls to the source? Pool all those resources?"

"Cannot do, I am afraid. You are neglecting to compensate for the sheer mass of Star that would be left behind, listless and lifeless. There is also the matter of Hydaelyn, whom returns any Lifestream back unto the shard it came from."

"Okay, but, _but_, what if she okay'd it? What if she, after everything had lived it's natural life on the planet, turned it back into aether and rejoined it little by little to the Source?"

"A very big 'if', that. She would not agree regardless, because to do so would be to restore unto Zodiark some small measure of His power." He smirked as she squinted, nose wrinkling, and shifted his hand to tap a finger against her nose even as he cradled the glass between his thumb and index finger. "Above and beyond that, are you truly comfortable with dooming civilizations? With preventing the very lives of children, with causing all of a Star to become barren and unable to give birth to new life?"

"Okay, point, but what about just... Moving the people? We know it can be done. You and the Exarch both made it work, to move me and the others between the Source and the First. Sure it'd be a massive undertaking, but then you'd be bringing all those lives safely over." She held up a hand. "I'm still thinking about the massive rock that would leave behind. Give me a bit for that point."

"To bring over every living thing would indeed be a massive undertaking. But what then, of those that already dwell upon the source? You would have a wild, sudden influx of refugees without any home. As you have seen with the refugees from Doma, 'tis no small feat to house, feed and protect these countless numbers." He was playing with his own glass now, before lifting it up to his mouth.

"No small feat, but also not impossible. You're the Architect, if anyone could build them homes it would be you." 

He choked on the sip he was taking at that, setting the mostly empty glass down and wiping at his face. "... And what of the beasts and the plants? Whatever natural ecosystem you have currently would be utterly _ruined_." 

"Except, y'know, there's places where there just _isn't_ an ecosystem. Azys Lla, for example. The big empty wastes off the edge of Garlemald where the aether's been drained." 

"It wouldn't _fit_, firstly. Do you even realize how many countless malms of land that would require?" He quirked a brow at her, and she grinned at him in return. 

"Good thing we've got a whole lot've land to try and shuffle into the Source then. What else're you gunna do with the raw mass of the shards? All that rock, water, fire and air? I mean, sure, there'd be a lot've upheaval but forewarned we might just be able to get everyone to safe places and make sure there wasn't any unneeded loss of life. "

"Even if it _was_ feasible, there is the not at all small matter of _Hydaelyn_ and _Zodiark_. She will not idly let Him reclaim His power. And He _will_ reclaim it. As the Star is rebuilt, due to how He is bound to it, how He _is_ the star. And, I see you fingering one of your swords, before you even think of killing Him know that should you do so so too shall the Star die."

"A dead end then." She frowned.

"Ohhh, don't feel _too_ bad about it. 'Tis only a rehash of some very old concepts. A good try." He reached out to ruffle her hair, and she ducked and grumbled, trying to snag his hand so that she could bring it to he mouth and press her lips against his knuckles. "At the very least, you are making an attempt at cooperation and compromise."


	23. Leviathan

"What, in Zodiark's name, are you _doing_?" Emet-Selch stared at the Warrior as she blinked at him. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in her rooms in the Crystarium, surrounded by a ring of candles. A few sticks of incense burned in front of her and she had, for the length of time he had stood there (granted, less than a minute and he had watched her do so for the past ten minutes as well), been rather obnoxiously going 'Oooooommmmm~'.

"Trying to talk to Hydaelyn. Bit hard without magic of my own, _but_ I think I might be onto something. Thought I felt a tingle a little bit ago."

"I rather think that may be due to the spider." He folded his arms, smirking as she cursed and twisted, swatting and clawing at her shoulders and back where there was, in fact, no arachnid. It had long since left. The Ascian privately felt it was likely due to the buzzing hum she had been trying to maintain. 

"_Asshat_." The Warrior sighed, flopping her hands back down onto her lap and adjusting her coat as she wiggled her nose. "Normally, she always just... Talks to me. I think I only ever tried to talk to her once before and gave up."

"Ahh yes, petitioning the gods for advice." Emet-Selch snapped his fingers, and all of the candles went out in response to the tiny flare of aether. He sat down in front of her, picking up the incense and setting it aside before nudging aside each of the little plates she had set the candles up on to clear a path between them. 

"Hey, I was using those. If I'm doing it wrong, how d'you do it?"

"Me?" The Ascian blinked at her, and she nodded.

"Yeah."

"I _don't_." Pale gold eyes partially closed, and she blinked before looking confused. "Sundered and bound, do recall. He has been silent for... A thousand thousand years. Give or take, of course."

"I... Really should have thought that question through, and I'm sorry that I'm an idiot." She poked her fingers together, looking sheepish. "For what it's worth, with all the primals you guys summoned on the Source, she's _really_ weaker than she should be. So, kudos for a plan that was actually worki-"

"... Warrior?" He blinked at her as she stared blankly ahead for a moment. 

"That's it! Azys Lla, and how the Allagan's shackled Bahamut! Then Zodiark could be controlled, and-"

"Clever little Monster, but no. T'would not work any better than it would for Hydaelyn which, if I am to be honest, was the original intent behind the test. Bahamut contained an easily accessed neurological network and anatomy. Zodiark is a rather large piece of crystal." He held up a hand as she frowned and opened her mouth again. "And _no_, before you inquire the method my great-grandson used to contain Shinryu would also fail to contain and pacify him, although the thought had recently crossed my mind. The power required would utterly deplete any resources you hoped to save from him."

"Shit." The Warrior frowned. "I'm really starting there's only one way to do this and I dunno if I like it."

"Pray, do tell, what would be this way?" He quirked a brow, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin up on his hands.

"Temper Zodiark."

He stared at her, unblinking for a long moment, and she slowly raised her hands. 

"Technically, anything without an echo can be tempered, right? We don't know if a Primal can, though, is the thing, but Zodiark's not dying in his unconscious state, and he's also not trying to kill everything, and Hydaelyn is doing well enough attached to the Lifestream without feeding on it, right? So neither of them are really_ causing problems_ at the moment. So why not just, I dunno, try and get him to sleep? Not dead, so the Star doesn't die, and then we can figure out a way to finish fixing the original problem. Thing is, hungry as he's going to be, he's not gunna want to, so that means he'd have to have a leash and the only thing unbending enough that I can think of is tempering itself."

"_That_, is the singular most blasphemous thing I have _ever_ heard uttered."

"Hey, from what I know about Primals they _do_ have emotions. I've pissed enough off to know that one for a fact. And it's not like tempering just _goes away_, you're living proof of that. It -sticks-." She set her hands on her lap, frowning. "I mean, I know it sucks, thing I think it'd have to be done in chunks. 'Cause all put back together he'd be way too strong-"

"Stop." Emet-Selch held up one hand, and she quieted with a frown. He stared at her, really _stared_ at her, and then rubbed the heels of his gloved hands against his eyes with a sigh. "... A conversation, as you would say, for another day. This is a very serious thing to consider."

"Alright. New topic then." She smiled at him, and rubbed her hands together. "When do you wanna go back so i can punch Primals again?"

The Ascian clapped his hands on his knees, and straightened slightly. "Right now, if such is your wish."

"I just got a good coat of my own today, Emet-Selch. Of -course- I wanna go and ruin it immediately." The Warrior grinned. 

* * *

"We were wondering where you both had gotten to. Did you bring my books?" 

She grinned and passed him a backpack, before gently lobbing the sack of dried raisins to Ryne, who caught them and giggled. Emet-Selch rather more politely handed the bag of loose leaf tea to Urianger, who inclined his head politely in thanks and looked privately relieved. 

"So! I've got a new coat. I'm remarkably well rested. I've caused some mischief. All that's left is to figure out how we're going to do this." The Warrior stretched idly this way and that, before starting to do squats. "Generally how this goes, Emet-Selch, is we learn what we can about the primal and plan accordingly, but really we already know these Primals. Who are we doing first, by the way?"

"T'was decided that Leviathan would be the first." The elezen had stepped back out of his tent after ducking into it to put his tea away. "We have also decided upon a location, the site upon which the deepest ocean of the First once lingered."

"Nice, nice, that doesn't mean a whole lot to me other than it's good thematically. I'm guessing that's on purpose."

"Yes, we also spoke of how you might manifest them. Perhaps try and think of them as... Easier to kill? Than the ones on the Source?" Thancred glanced over from where he was rooting through the backpack and seeing what all they had brought him. From the faint redness across his face he had already come across one of the rather raunchy books they had, snickering, agreed to bring for him.

"Fair. So, Leviathan, huh? Alright. I can do that. Bloody big snake. Spits water. No problems." She grinned at them, before surveing the group. "So we can't just leave her here, so that means one of us has to stay behind. I know nobody's going to let Emet-Selch, because Thancred still doesn't trust him. It can't be Urianger or Ryne, 'cause-"

"Yes, yes, I will stay behind to keep an eye on our seemingly comatose captive." The Gunblade shook his head. "Quite frankly I'm looking forward to _not_ getting almost killed. Urianger?"

"If thou are about to request my guardianship of young Ryne, then thou need not ask. 'Tis an assured thing."

"So we've got Urianger healing, Ryne and me on the stabbing, aaand..." The Warrior peered at the Ascian, who rolled his eyes and flapped a hand at her. 

"Yes, yes, I understand the basic requirements of a party's composition. I am also, by far, the physically strongest individual here. 'Tis plain you would be hopeless without me."

She beamed at him. "Best Ascian ally I've ever had."

"_Only_ Ascian ally you have ever had, my little Monster." 

"Alright everyone! Let's get going."

* * *

_"WHY does it have TWO HEADS!?"_ Emet-Selch braced his shield as a jet of water slammed into it, sending him sliding a few feet across the stone before he dug his sword into the ground. "I distinctly recall it only had one!"

"Uhhh... Oops!? All left!"

The jet of water stopped, and he turned and clunked his way rapidly across the stone as it's two heads came screaming around and tore through the center of the platform, and it was only a quick snatch with the hand that held his shield that saved Ryne from getting caught by it. Urianger had finished his spell and layered a barrier over everyone that cracked with the pressure of the water that slammed into it, rattling like a frail window. 

Turning, orienting on the two-headed serpent he realized only one set of it's eyes was watching them. The other...

A full fourty fulms marked the gap between the two rows of stone that neatly hung in mid-air. The Warrior of Light was, rather stupidly, on the far one. She turned, saluted to them, and then hopped and tucked into a ball as that second head snapped down and closed it's jaws around her before tossing it's head back. The throat moved, and it _swallowed_. 

"Did she just get eaten on _PURPOSE!?I" _

"Brace!" came the Elezen's reply, and the Ascian brought the shield up as another spray of water slammed into him. He leaned into it, sword stabbed into the platform to better anchor himself, and as the spray stopped he staggered forward and turned the almost tumble into a charge. Two slashes notched the jaw, and it recoiled before Ryne was jumping off his back and stabbing both blades into the Primal's nose. It recoiled further, shaking it's head and she turned and leaped down before she was taken too far out of range, skidding on the slick stone before catching herself and darting behind Emet-Selch.

Something was wrong with the second head. It was choking, coughing, and trying to spray water that was coming out as nothing more than dribbles and harmless splashes. Finally, both heads curled and the first head roared out and then snapped it's muzzle shut as the other one reared back and then went forward. 

"WHUUUBBBRLLLBLRLLLRBRBLLL!"

The Warrior, finally dislodged from Leviathan's trachea, went flying past overhead, propelled by a potent jet of water that was stained dark by oily blood. Urianger focused, weaving the usually rounded barrier into something more tube-shaped to catch her and slide her down onto the stone beside him. She sat up and rolled over, retching water and waving rapidly towards the other section of stone. 

"I think she's saying-"

Both heads gathered, and came for them with the same manouver that took out the middle two sections of the platform. Stabbing his sword into the stone, Emet-Selch snapped his hand out and snarled, tendrils of darkness weaving around his feet before a larger barrier manifested and took the brunt of the strike. 

It started to crack, so he cursed and stepped partially to the side. The barrier angled with him, reinforced by the astrologian as Urianger threw his aether behind the Ascian's and both heads slid rapidly along the wavering mass of blues and purples to send the Primal skidding past. Their temporary tank dropped his arm, shoulders slumping as he caught his breath, watching as the two-headed Leviathan coiled up before them once more. 

"Shield up!"

Emet-Selch crouched down, only to surge upwards with his shield raised as four booted feet settled onto it, sighing in resignation as the first head opened and he could _see_ the way aether gathered. As he completed his extension to throw both of the rogues upwards he caught the spray center-mass and was knocked clean off the platform.

By the time he made it back up and snagged his sword, Ryne was being bodily hurled across the gap by the Warrior in an effort to get her clear of the crumbling, dissipating Primal. The rogue herself had jumped at the last minute to try and catch a ledge as Urianger caught the former Oracle and curled into a ball, a spherical barrier protecting Ryne and himself as Leviathan exploded into a torrent of water that seemed endless and he was being knocked back again, caught in a current as his armor dragged him down. 

A thought sent him through a rift, and back into Eden's core where he lay, soaked through and sputtering. The others would be -fine-. If they weren't, then _so be it_. The Warrior could breath water, and presumably the other two could swim. 

...

A brief search for their aether confirmed it, though the Warrior had gotten caught in the current and was traveling away at a rapid pace. Cursing, he hauled himself off and stepped back into a rift, intent on collecting the one person of their little party that _couldn't teleport_.

Zodiark's Mercy, but the things he _did_ for that woman...

* * *

"So, I think that was a valuable lesson for us all." 

They were back at the camp, Eden drifting complacently in the background as everyone stood around in their underthings waiting for their clothes to dry by the fire. Thancred was fighting the urge to snicker as he failed to do more than make it look like he was reading.

"If thou means to say that thou hath learned the merits of focus and clear recollection, then indeed. 'Tis truly a valuable lesson." The astrologian ambled over, handing out cups of tea to everyone as if it might help keep them warm as they waited.

"Why, Urianger, I do believe that is the first time I have ever heard you _snark_ at someone." The Ascian smirked, accepting his cup of tea and shifting his weight to balance on one foot. "I had almost come to be convinced you lacked the ability."

"Eh? Nah, he snarks all the time." The Warrior ambled over, taking her cup of tea with a nod of thanks and taking a sip. "You're not the only one to like vexing people. He's pretty good at sarcasm and turn of phrase when he's of a mind to."

The elezen inclined his head to accept the compliment before making his way over to Ryne's tent, easing the flaps open and passing her a cup of tea as well.

"So! Day of rest and then on to the next one? With the lessening of all the light aether, things should be easier for you, right Emet-Selch?" She shifted onto the tips of her toes, and he leaned down to meet her part way as she grinned and kissed him. 

"Mmm. Just so. Still difficult, however 'tis a start."

"Good. One down, three to go. Let's get some rest folks." She winked at him before making her way to their tent, and he obligingly followed with a feeling that he wasn't actually going to get much rest. 

He was right.


	24. Titan

He had worked out how she had done it. Even without the auracite she would have been able to. It had taken a close examination of the swords to realize that the only unusual things bout them was the fact that they were incredibly sturdy (being made of scavenged metals that had been at the time nameless, though he did recognize them as having originally come from a Garlean armor) and had a thin line of flint embedded along the side of each blade that produced sparks when rubbed against other things. 

No, the severing of aether was wholly her own ability, passed down from _her_, a lesser and watered down version of the strikes that had caused the Sundering. She had cut the tempering out of him like a cancer and then used the auracite to pull it out. It was interesting, considering it only hadn't made a copy of him because it was simply too weak to. It just let her cut impossibly well.

Laying there, watching her sleep soundlessly against his side as she used his arm as a pillow, he settled his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. It was a simple matter to let go of the vessel that had housed him, and as he settled into the ambient aether he shifted and stretched and traced a hand against the upper edge of the central mask. Of _his_ mask, and then deftly slipped a claw further, up under the edge of what would have been considered his 'chest'...

He could feel the scars. Tenderly, he could trace the dips and pits in what passed as his 'heart', as his _core_, cataloged the jagged edges and grooves that had been carved across it. Neat little furrows, where swirls of Zodiark's aether had lingered and settled in, rooted themselves to him, and not for the first time he marveled at the near surgical precision with which she had struck. Bits of him had been shaved off, to effectively remove the contamination, and it was these spots that he delicately probed. 

And _shuddered,_ jagged streaks of pain radiating outwards from the gentlest of touches. Unlike the bulk of his form, it would take decades, if not longer for the damage to heal. 

How could she stand being so... so _raw_ all the time? Her soul was in far worse condition than his own, a collection of jagged edges and chunks that were barely connected at _all_. Sure, her physical body couldn't likely _feel_ it, but still... Well. He had released the vessel for the time being for a reason. Gathering himself, bracing himself, the delicate claws found an edge that looked like it might break off easily and _pulled_. 

* * *

"Hmrnmn?" The Warrior blinked as she came to, disturbed by something nameless that had her uneasy. Glancing over, she blinked at the expanse of the Ascian's back and tiredly looped an arm around his waist. "Whussup." 

"You, apparently. For someone so utterly lacking in aetheric capabilities that 'tis impossible for you to muster a spell without specific, intentional assistance or aids as if you were a true Garlean, born and bred, you have an incredibly uncanny sense of things in your immediate vicinity."

She tried to work her way through that. She decided to take it as a compliment, and muttered something that vaguely resembled a 'thanks'. As she finished rousing, she noted he was doing something with his hands, and that there were minuscule, tiny flickers of light coming from in front of him. A thought occurred to her, and her brows furrowed. 

"... What'cha doin'?"

"Hush. I am concentrating. You will see in due time."

"Mmn..." The Warrior shifted, partially rolling so that she could simply watch him in the dark. The tiny flickers and flashes continued, and she had almost dozed off before Emet-Selch heaved a sigh and let his hands rest in his lap. 

"Hero. I have finished."

She grumbled quietly, before letting go of his waist and slowly pushing herself upright. She stretched and promptly draped herself against his shoulder, only to pause and stare at what he cradled in his hands.

"Do _not_ ask what this is made of, know only that it is... _Irreplaceable_ should you lose it or somehow break it. I have done what I can to strengthen and ward it, and I am _particularly_ good at doing so however..." He was rambling, he realized. Nervous. Huffing a soft, reproachful sound at himself, he offered it up for her and she almost delicately lifted it from his grasp. 

It looked like a chunk of dark crystal, no larger than the last digit of her pinky finger. She fumbled for a light before he idly lifted his hand and simply produced a mote of it, and she tucked against his side once more to admire it. Dark amethyst, flecked with gold and capped with gold on the end, it looked like a charm that could be altered into an earring or a necklace piece if needed. It was cool to the touch, and she gently ran her fingers across the facets and flat planes of it. 

Some nameless part of her ached, and without a doubt she knew what it was and where it had come from.

"Hades-"

A bare finger pressed against her lips before he was laying down and stretching back out. 

"I am _tired_, and would like to get what sleep I can before the morning."

"'Kay..." 

She tucked in against his side, wide-eyed and staring off at nothing in awe and wonderment, clutching the crystal tightly in her hand and holding it against her chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world. 

* * *

"Alright! So. Are you -sure- you want to do Titan next." The Warrior peered at the others in the camp. "I mean, Leviathan wasn't actually that bad-" (Emet-Selch snorted. He didn't even try to hide it.)"-but Titan was just..."

"What happened with Titan?" Ryne glanced at Urianger, who looked thoughtful and then back towards the Warrior who had lifted her hands to cover her mask and was groaning something about landslides.

"Titan was fought atop a pillar in a cave, and he kept destroying the outer edge of it. The worst part, perhaps, is that he would constantly knock people off so that they would plummet to their death. Being the self-sacrificing sort, our Warrior of Light baited him and insulted him into using them almost exclusively on her." Thancred folded his arms, watching the group and quirking a brow. "I would recommend getting you drunk before manifesting this one, but that might actually make it worse.

"Fourty. Two. Times. I climbed that Twelve-forsaken pillar, _fourty two times_. I can't stop thinking about it. When I think 'Titan' that's immediately what my mind goes to. He's gunna do it here. He's gunna do it -exclusively- to me." She groaned, scrubbing her hands across her mask. "And there were rocks! They exploded! I distinctly remember that." 

"Well now, fancy _that_. An earth-based Primal using rocks that exploded." Emet-Selch tucked a hand to his chest, gasping in mock surprise only raise his shield defensively and huff out an amused sound as she took off her boot and threw it at him.

"You -know- what I'd say if Ryne wasn't around. Speaking of, I'd lend you my swords but nobody's been able to get them to work the way I have." She shot the girl an apologetic look, and received a sheepish smile in return. 

"I wouldn't know how to use them. They're too wide and more built for slashing than stabbing. Thancred had these made for me, so I'll just use them."

"Gotcha. So, I really doubt that I can trick him into eating me so that I can just kill him from the inside the way I'd started to do with the Water Boy, so that means we gotta go in from the outside." The Warrior grimaced, rubbing her temples as the Ascian hummed and sauntered up, reaching out to start running gloved hands through her hair. 

"How many knives was it, that you broke across his knees?"

"Twelve, I don't even -know-." She grumbled, relaxing into the touch. "Alright. I'm about as ready as I'll ever be for this."

"Just make sure you focus on the part where you know you have beaten him before, my little Monster. I know your will and your preferences."

"Thank's. That's... Actually pretty reassuring."

* * *

As one, four sets of eyes stared up at Titan. Three sets of those eyes shifted to stare squarely at the Warrior's back as she squinted. 

"You know, 'tis hardly surprising after seeing what Leviathan looked like." Emet-Selch drawled, shaking his head as he let the tip of his sword drag against the ground.

"Okay, so I might've had a thought that getting hit by him felt like what it would probably feel like to get hit by those black cars going around. Look at the floor. It's got a grid pattern. The chunks are probably gunna do something, though that's got me baffled."

**"YOU!!!"**

"Aaand he's seen me." She drew both blades and strafed to the right, drawing his attention as the Primal stomped after her. She made a wide circle around him before stopping behind where he had climbed up onto the platform, reversing her momentum and narrowly avoiding the foot that kicked out. 

"Ryne!" The Ascian turned, shield offered, and the girl took a brief running start before he launched her off the shield and up onto the Primal's back. Turning, he rushed over and brought the sword across the back of one of the legs. It clanged, and he let out a quiet sigh at how he hadn't left more than a scratch. 

Meanwhile, the Warrior _danced_. 

She spun like an absurd child's toy, weaving from side to side every time the Primal's foot went up or down, rattling off blows that chipped away at the beast's shin and hopping ever so slightly so that the small shockwave at every stamp missed her. When his fist came down, she spun aside and then blinked, glancing at the ground. 

"Ur! Left!"

Emet-Selch didn't have to glance back to know that the elezen had broken out into a run. Considering what she had snickeringly refereed to as a 'danger sense' he couldn't blame him, and let the sword lower briefly to study the ambient aether and try to discern what, exactly, might be about to happen, before-... There. The thinnest tendrils of aether. He let out a slow breath and smirked as he realized what, exactly, she was doing.

Well now, the only trick was to concentrate on maintaining an open awareness as he fought. If _she_ could do it, then so could he. Speaking of, there was a section of ground with a suspicious swirl that seemed to be gathering. The Warrior was already hollering for Ryne to get down, to follow, and he made it to the gathering center at the same time she did, Urianger close on their heels. He studied it, before grunting as everyone dove aside when the Titan leapt up and practically landed on him. 

She may have had a point about the armor. It was _uncomfortably_ crunched in against his back now in the shape of a giant foot. Only an instinctive triggering of a shield had prevented the weight from being centered, spreading it across and diverting it into the ground around him.

Two of the wheel-like structures across the Primal's shoulders fragmented, drifted, and gathered around each of his fists, and he slammed both down. The former Oracle was knocked clean off her feet as the Ascian staggered, and he watched the Warrior hop to get over the next shockwave as it slammed a now much larger fist into the ground. Thus far, not bad. If nothing else it was a steady fight he thought to himself, even as rocks manifested across the field and the Warrior pointed at one and bellowed for everyone to get behind it. He could see why. The potential for the little ripples of shockwaves made the view of the ground fairly ripple. As the ones across the platform exploded, everyone surged out and around and away from the rock they had taken cover behind, barely making it out of the blast range of the final one.

And then, all four 'wheels' fragmented off his back and assembled together, stone materializing to form a saddle of sorts, and the Titan was _riding__ his own aether_. Stone ground against stone as the Warrior went into a full on sprint, diving aside so that it streaked past and came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the platform, spun in place, and then charged after her once more. She didn't make it up that time, and everyone winced at the way the Primal crunched over her. 

The Echo took hold of her, and she _uncrunched_ as the double beat of a heart suffused the air around her. She hauled herself up, and grinned viciously beneath her mask even as she spread her arms wide. 

"COME ON THEN!!!"

It took them a good twenty minutes of mad scrambling before the Titan snapped Ryne up in a fist and aimed to throw her against the ground. A ripple of shielding blue aether gave her the barest of ilms of space as the fingers tightened and slammed her down, and as the foot came up the Ascian moved and braced with more than just the body he possessed. 

The foot came down against the shield and the ground cracked beneath them. By then, Urianger had completed a healing spell and the former Oracle was up and scrambling, getting out from underneath Emet-Selch's braced form just as the foot came down again and sent him, grunting, another few ilms into the ground. 

"HEY FATASS! YOU DIDN'T HAVE A LOINCLOTH 'CAUSE THERE WASN'T ANYTHING UNDER IT THE LAST TIME AND NOTHING'S CHANGED! TALK ABOUT NOT HAVING THE STONES TO FOLLOW THROUGH!"

The Primal turned, the stomp that had been meant for the Ascian coming down hard where the Warrior had been standing a moment before, and she cackled even as she danced away. The ache that had suffused him with each of the stomps faded as the elezen wove healing aether through him, and he hauled himself out of the divot in the ground he had been pounded into so that he could charge after the two before the Primal abruptly turned on his heel and leapt from the platform. Rocks, torn from the nearby mountains that had been partially restored, were gathered and slammed into his form before the mass of aether resolved itself into a humanoid form only marginally smaller than the Talos that had captured Mount Gulg. 

The four of them shared a glance, and the Warrior ducked her head sheepishly even as she poked her fingers together. 

"Uhh... Sssooo..."

The Primal stomped through the molten magma far below, roaring. The platform was roughly level with it's chest, and the Ascian didn't think he had ever felt so physically small in the last century. 

"We shall speak more upon this later." Urianger rubbed the bridge of his nose before plucking a card from those that orbited the rings of metal that floated above his hand, and everyone took that as a sign to return their focus to their larger than life opponent.

* * *

_"Hades...?"_

Emet-Selch jerked awake with a start. Drifting along the ambient aether as he was, he cursed to himself and then reached, pouring himself back into his vessel. Blinking at the sky that was now above him above and the Warrior as she loomed over him, the Ascian hummed out a conversational sound. She had shifted her mask to the side so that she could peer down at him with her own eyes, and looked relieved. 

"Phew! I'd worried. Urianger was knocked out too, but Ryne got him to come 'round. He muttered something about the big swirly yellow eruption thing hitting more aether and less people. You alright?"

A quick check of his aether noted the residue of the concussive force that had rattled through him, and he slowly pushed himself up. They were still on the platforms, but the blinding light had been diffused by the now ambient earth aether. Titan was nowhere to be seen, but the aforementioned elezen was sitting a few feet away with a dazed look on his face as the former Oracle tried to staunch his nosebleed. 

"No more so than post Amaurot." 

She snorted, pushing herself up and offering a hand out to pull him to his feet. "Well, just means we need a few days of downtime." 

"How many times, Warrior?" The relieved smile that had stretched her mouth faltered, fading as she reached and shifted the mask back into place. There was blood along her ears and soaked into her clothes, and he reached to turn her around so that he could drape himself over her in a hug from behind. She leaned back against him, one hand coming up to rest atop his and the other shifting to settle over the crystal he had given her that she had strapped to the inside of her forearm.

"... Just three. He was slow, and once I got onto his arms and got to his face he had a harder time doing more than aether-blasting me. Ryne dug through one of his eyes while I distracted him while you two were out. If you hadn't shielded her during that first yellow-orange surge thing he did that knocked you out, she would've been in the same boat."

He blinked. He certainly didn't _remember_ shielding the girl, but then again he didn't remember the eruption that had laid him low, either. It was a worrying thing in and of itself, though he filed it away for later. 

"I think he's okay to move now." Ryne looked over at them, before helping the much taller Urianger to his feet. He staggered, leaning heavily on her as he lifted a shaking hand to rub at his face. 

"Let's head back then. Call down an Aetherflow to take us back to Eden, yeah?"

The girl nodded, and raised her eyes to where the construct floated above them.

* * *

"-so, really, thought about that way then -everyone- should head back to the Crystarium."

"It's a full day's drive away, Warrior." Thancred folded his arms, staring her down with one eye just as fiercely as she was returning the favour with two. "And as much as four of us fit, five of us aren't likely going to be able to."

"Look, Urianger hasn't thee'd or thou'd in an _hour_. He needs better medical attention than what we can give. He's the healer! I'd ask Emet-Selch, but he's-"

"-Standing right behind you, now. Some of us _are_ attempting to rest." The Ascian of the Hour, dressed in his long coat and travel clothes, leaned forward to rest his chin atop her head and drew a huff from the Warrior as she folded her arms.

"Exactly! I was gunna say resting." 

"Not any more, it would seem. What has you fluttering about your little chicklets, feathers all a-twist Little Monster?" He grunted as she elbowed him, lips forming a thin line before he leaned and draped his arms over her shoulders. He was _tired_ and he was _sore_ in more than just the physical sense, and had expended more aether than he would have liked in the still overly-abundant blinding light aether that suffused the area.

"Urianger. His pupils are still blown, and I can't get more than a muttered grumble out've him. Something's _wrong_. But _Thancred_ won't drive everyone back to the Crystarium, where we could probably get are still suspiciously unconscious captive checked too." She shifted, trying to peer at him even as she reflexively lifted a hand to tuck it against his forearms below her chin.

"Her? Oh, 'tis clear the ambient light aether is as unkind to her as it is to me, Hero. She will wake when we finish tipping the balance." Turning his face, he nosed tiredly along her collar and let his senses drift out, idly picking up the Gunblade's disgust as he threw his hands in the air and walked away even as he touched the depths of the Elezen's oddly torn devotion-

Waitasecond.

"Oh. Ohhh... Hero you are _not_ going to like this." The Ascian lifted his head, as he peered towards the astrologian's tent. A slower, more in depth survey of the hidden Urianger confirmed it, though he couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he noted the ongoing struggle. "My, what a willpower to the boy."

"Emet-Selch, c'mon, you know I can't sense aether like you. What's wrong with him?" The Warrior shifted in his arms, looking from the tent to the Garlean draped over her like an ungainly shawl. 

"The very first stages of _Tempering_." 

The Warrior stared at him, and then turned towards the tent to study it and scrub her hands across her face. "... I don't suppose I can bribe you, can I? I know you're _really_ tired, but the last thing I wanna do is lose someone to that."

"You can, but I _will_ require several days of uninterrupted rest after this. 'Tis a fair distance to traverse, and one made more difficult by the burden of the aether of another. The aether of two more, doubly so."

"You don't have to take me-" She blinked as his arm snaked around her waist, glancing up as he practically purred down at her. 

"Oh? But however will I be waited on, hand and foot by yourself should I leave you behind~?"

It was _hard_ to argue with logic like that.

* * *

She settled Urianger into his own rooms, closing the doors as she stepped out to leave him with a healer and make her way up two floors to her own. Hades had stalked off the moment they had arrived, and while he could have gone _anywhere_ she had a feeling he might have decided to break into her rooms instead. It wasn't hard. She didn't bother to lock it, usually, considering most of her visitors could either scry on her to see if she was in and knock or simply _teleport_. There wasn't anything valuable that she kept there either, so even if anyone else went into her rooms they weren't going to get anything she might miss. 

But then again, who, of the gracious multitudes, would _want_ to steal from the 'Hero' that brought back the night?

The Warrior grimaced at that thought. For all that she had 'saved' the world she'd almost screwed it over worse. Just thinking about a sin eater with her echo, that refused to die and just kept _getting back up_ was enough to rankle her mood. The world didn't need any more monsters like her, let alone anything with intentions that were at odds with her own. A polite knock on the door to her room, and she was pushing it open, stepping in as she tucked her thoughts away to see where her Ascian might have gone. 

Ah, there he was. Spread-eagle on the bed, fully dressed and breathing in that shallow, unconscious way that all that slumbered did. Not for the first time, she wondered if his consciousness slumbered within it as well, or if he was drifting about the room as a formless mass of aether and whether or not she was accidentally breathing him. How did that work, anyways? Were there different layers to existence, like a cake? Did he literally turn into air aether? How did that tie into his void-portal-things? Was the world she knew the 'icing' level, wherever he went between the world and the lifestream the 'cake' level, and the void a sort of 'fruit filling' layer between everything? 

Did he go out into the_ sky_? Up into that darkness between the stars? He'd looked straight up that one time that he had said Elidibus needed him for something, and she had checked the view after he left to find nothing above them except for the _moon_.

Thinking about it made her head hurt, so she simply ambled over to the bed and started removing his boots and coat, dragging over a chair to leave everything on and by and adding his gloves and that red scarf he wore like a banner so that he was down to his dark shirt and pants. Carefully, slowly, she worked one of the blankets out from under him so that she could drape it over his vessel before sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked almost peaceful like this, messily tucked in, and she leaned over to brush that ridiculous white forelock out of his face before shifting back with a slight smile. 

Twelve, but she had _countless_ questions... 

Removing her mask from where it had been perched on the side of her head, she set it aside and then reached to run a finger along the chunk of crystal strapped to her forearm. _His_ crystal. She knew without a doubt that it was part of him, without even really knowing how or why. Just that she had been equal parts aghast that he would _mutilate_ himself like that and touched that he had wanted to give her something so personal. Thumbing across it, she blinked as the faintest sense of _movement_ tickled her awareness. 

Glancing around, she didn't see anything. With a shrug she idly slid her thumb across the crystal once more and blinked as she found it warmer than it had been before. Another slow swipe, and the edge of the table rather suddenly had an Ascian decked out in his robes with those overly-long claw-like extensions capping some of his fingers perched atop it.

"... You _do_ realize I can feel that, yes?" 

"I mean, I'd had the thought that you might, but it's nice to confirm it. I didn't mean to bother you, with you resting." She smiled at him and then paused, glancing behind her to the vessel on the bed and then back to him. "I'm betting you didn't waste your energy on making a body or altering one, so that leaves... Illusion?"

"Astute." He was smiling under the edge of his mask, and reached up to push the hood back. Pale gold eyes watched her before partially lidding as she slowly slid her thumb along the crystal once more.

"It's the lack of a shadow. It's how I checked to see if anything had a body I could hit or if I was just seeing things. Though, I mean, not always a guarantee, that. I've thought lamps were people before." She snickered, before looking down at the crystal. "... Thancred had something like this, though it was bigger, when Lahabrea possessed him. I've been thinking, by the way."

"Ahh, yes, the dark crystals." The Ascian smirked, reaching up to remove the mask and idly turn it over in his hands. "'Tis true, that it is a similar item to what I have given you, but different all the same."

"Nabriales died in the Waking Sands, killed by Moenbryda by way of white auracite and the staff who's name I can never pronounce right. Tipsy-matty?"

"Tupsimati." He smirked at her, amused. "Nabriales was a hasty fool. He went against what Elidibus wished and moved on you too soon." 

"Right. And Igeyorhm was killed by me, with white auracite and one of Nidhogg's eyes. So she's gone too."

"The Thirteenth becoming an utterly useless void was her fault, you know." Emet-Selch mused idly, much of him relaxed and the aetherical equivalent of dozing as she continued to smooth her thumb across the crystallized piece of his essence he had given her. 

"Iii didn't, but that might just be because I wasn't paying too much attention. Lahabrea though, he was basically eaten by a Primal, right? Does that mean he's really gone for good, or is there a way for you to get him back, or...?" The Warrior trailed off, frowning.

"The aether consumed by a primal is stripped of all ego, and I doubt he had the sheer strength of will to persevere. We couldn't find him, after the Lifestream took him. Thordan's death, was his own. Why do you inquire?" The Ascian tilted his head slightly, watching her as she scrunched up her nose.

"'Cause then it means that there's a lot more out there that's not white auracite that I gotta make sure doesn't get you. You were holding that canister of black rose pretty recklessly, and Elidibus didn't seem to like it. Bit've an aether-rearranging theme going on here. Which _also_ reminds me, you're not tempered any more. That probably makes you just as vulnerable to being tempered by the primals we're making as Urianger was-" She squinted over at the illusion as he started laughing. "Hey now, I'm _worried_, and-"

"-Please-, while I may have a new chink in my proverbial armor, my soul is robust enough to shake an attempt made by such a thing. Zodiark held the combined strength of a quarter of our people, and even then I was constantly _exposed_ to him over the course of what you would likely consider many years. I would have to sit there for nigh on a decade while the Primal repeatedly made the attempt for it to truly _stick_. But your concern _tickles_ me, it truly does." Emet-Selch let the corners of his mouth curl up into a smirk as the mask between his hands vanished before drifting away from the table, straightening as he went. "You need not worry overmuch about me, my little Monster. I am simply... Tired. Often, between conflicts, we Ascians would have years to heal and grow bored as we plotted and planned, not a day or two."

"Fair. I mean, you _are_ an old man." She grinned cheekily at him as he folded his arms and huffed indignantly, looking away. "... Hey, Hades?"

He didn't look at her, simply lifted his chin in the air as she stretched out next to his vessel and tucked her hands behind her head. "Insolent little Monster. Whatever could you want now?"

"Nothin'. I've got all I could ever want, right here in the room with me. I just wanted to say that I appreciate you, y'know? I couldn't have made it this far without you. You're special to me in ways I don't have the courage to say directly." 

Emet-Selch let the look of his illusion soften, studying her and smiling slightly. 

"I know, little Monster. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you _will_ need it."

The Warrior hummed idly, slowly drifting off. 


	25. It was always you...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore a little bit. I've now got two unfinished chapters plus all these childhood scenes bouncing around in my head.

"What are you doing here?"

Persephone's head came up from where she was digging in the mud bank. She hadn't been paying any attention to the world around her, so engrossed as she was with her 'work'. Still, the pond was waaay out of the way, nobody ever came there. She'd watched the place for a whole year, which while it might be no time at all to the -big- people was a full one twentieth of her age- Oh yeah. Someone was talking to her.

"-not supposed to be here."

She turned slightly, blinking back at where a young boy was standing with his arms crossed. His control over himself was good, she thought to herself, watching as only the barest, palest slivers of his nervous soul flickered before her as she reached out to see if he was mad at her. She'd failed every attempt to hide her presence except the few times she focused _really_ hard and moved _really_ slow. 

"I'm _digging_. Wanna help?"

He seemed taken aback by her cheerful offer, and tried to be as grown-up as possible, but she could see the barest flickers of _curiosity_ when she squinted at him behind her plain white mask. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped forward until his foot squished into a patch of mud. He quickly backpedaled, tightly held surprise and _ick_ teasing out from around the edges of his walls, and she couldn't help it. She _laughed_. 

"Well of _course_ you're gunna sink a bit! The mud's all nice and slimy!" 

* * *

They had both been coming to the pond for almost a decade now. Hardly any time at all, during which he always kept a distance and they both cautiously and shyly avoided asking about what section of the city the other was from. He usually found her up to her knees in the water or laying in the muck with frogs perched all over her, and one day he couldn't contain himself any longer. 

"You're _weird_." The words blurted out of him from where he was lounging in the tree that was almost as old as he conceivably was, one leg dangling and his hands behind his head. "Why're you always playing in the mud? It's all yucky! I've thought and thought and thought, and it doesn't make sense."

"'Cause my Guardians don' _want_ me to, 'cause otherwise I've gotta sit and study and if I go back all covered in mud then they gotta make me have a bath first, and then I have to sit in a room and _think_ about what I'd done gone and did." She pouted. "And that's _better_ than all the studying. I don't _wanna_ work! Sitting at a desk's _boring_!"

"Is not! It's comfortable, and there's no mud!"

"Well then bring some with you." She said it as if it was the most obvious, most natural thing in the world, rolling her eyes behind her mask even as he squirmed in place and ick'd aloud, only to yelp as she scampered over and hauled him down from the tree. He was expecting her to try and shove a handful of mud down his robes, but she just shoved him into some bulrushes as she shushed him and scampered back over to the pond. 

"There you are!" An adult stepped into the clearing, and she sat down in the mud even as she folded her arms. "We were looking for you. Come, Child. 'Tis hardly proper for you to be out unsupervised."

"I don't _wanna._"

"Such a willful child." The adult stepped over, tisking and physically picking her up and rocking her in their arms and ignoring the mud that she was getting everywhere. The Boy tried hard to keep himself hidden and study the adult, but it was an unfamilar soul that was an absolute riot of colours. "I know, I know, I was once small too, Child. I understand the allure and call of the rampant wilds, but you _must_ learn about it from our books first. I only came to get you because your Mentors were absolutely frantic with your disappearance. However did you manage it, when you as yet cannot hide the hue of your soul?"

"I climbed outta window!" She beamed, wiggling proudly in the adult's grasp who turned and started to leave the small, sheltered pond area and let out a quiet gasp.

"You must have been _very_ careful, and while this is a very brave thing that you have done, did you think about how those set to the task of teaching you might worry at your absence?"

"I dunno what that means, but I wanna _play_!"

And then they were gone, leaving the bewildered boy sitting in the bulrushes.

* * *

He had a feeling she was grounded. He told his bestest friend as much, and the other boy had simply blinked and hissed worriedly about kids that weren't from their community. There weren't any _girls_ in their generation in the engineering district, so who knew where she might have been from! The Agriculture district was _dangerous_, filled with all sorts of things that they were all warned away from, and that was the district off in the direction of the pond that he had met her at, and besides there was always something _off_ about the air that smelled funny. 

It was poop, he proudly informed the other boy, showing off that he _knew_ something that the other didn't. He didn't mention that he only knew because he'd asked her, and she had laughingly answered. He would have gone into more detail but the other boy was staring over his shoulder, jaw agape. For a moment, panic sized him. What if it was a grownup! So he turned, prepared to give any kind of an explanation to try and help his case, but paused as he sight of a familiar hue. 

It was _her_, mudspackled and working her way over a railing and dropping heavily the last few feet to the ground only to push herself up and brush herself off. Her soul, sun-touched sapphire that paled into ultramarine and was laced with silver, brightened further as she caught sight of them and hustled over, waving. 

"Hey! I'd wondered if you were from the Engineering district or if you'd traveled really far!" She tucked her hands onto her knees as she stopped a few feet away, catching her breath. "Whew! If anybody asks, you never saw me!"

"You're not supposed to _be_ here!" He hissed the words out from between his teeth, looking around and reaching to snag her by the wrist and haul her off towards one of the corners of the game court they had been loitering in and idly talking. His best friend followed them, head up and keeping an eye out. 

"I'm not! That's the part that makes it fun!" She was grinning under the mask, and as they came to a stop she reached out to settle her hands on his shoulders. "But I had to tell you! I didn't want you t'be _lonely_. I'm leaving the city for a bit!"

"But _nobody_ gets to leave the city." His best friend kept a few feet of distance between them, eyeing her cautiously, and she turned to him and laughed easily. 

"Well, that's not true at all. People leave the city all the time." Turning back to him, she beamed with that smile that just screamed of mischief. "But before I went, I wanted to give you a gift! But you can't use it until I get back!" She jostled him somewhat, before letting him go and clasping her hands behind her back. "You gotta _promise_ me, though. You can't tell _anyone_. Not even him." 

His best friend let out a disgruntled sound at that, folding his arms. 

"What! I've never seen you before today!" She turned back to his friend for the briefest moment it took to stick her tongue out, before leaning back towards him. "Well?"

"Alright. I promise." He held out a hand, and they hooked their pinkies together before solemly shaking hands that way. She leaned in, much further into his personal space than she had ever gone, and he could feel the rush of heat across his face before her lips moved, murmuring four syllables in the quietest, shyest tone he'd ever heard her use. Straightening, she beamed at him and then turned, as if to head back the way she had come only to halt as he reached to snag her by the back of the robes and halt her. 

She glanced back, and he felt a small rush of victory at the way her soul shifted and _sparkled_ when he leaned in and gifted her with two of his own. 

"Make sure you don't _lose_ it." he let go of her robes, pushing her back towards the Agricultural district and folding his hands behind her back as she laughed, waved, and took off running. 

His friend waited until she was gone before rounding on him, reaching out to snag him by the shoulders and shake him. 

"What are you _thinking! _You're not supposed to give your name to _anyone!_"

He just smiled like an idiot, watching her disappear back over the railing.

* * *

The next time he saw her, he had almost a full century under his belt. Another decade or two, and he could start working for the city and start making his way up through the ranks of his district. He and his best friend were both sitting on the steps of the library in the central district, working on their homework before they both paused and stared blankly at the figure that was _running_. Nobody _ran_, unless they were very late or very young, and usually only in very distinct, specific instances. 

The Adults could key into the Aetherite scattered about the city, after all, and many of the 'Tweens could as well, so called because they were between the age of what was considered a 'child' and an 'adult'. The very young were children, and usually playing within a specific range of their guardians or caretakers. He had his answer as he stared at the sapphire and ultramarine mix that was edged in silver, and tracked his gaze towards the nearest aetherite that _she_ was peeling away from. 

Sure enough, a trio of adults materialized and scattered.

He waved a hand, packing his books and materials before turning and heading wordlessly for the alley she had peeled down, his best friend following at his heels and hissing about how they could get in trouble. 

He caught up to her before they did. It was a simple process of elimination as to where she might come to rest, and he knew the types of places she would be drawn to. It was like a weird type of magnetism, with her. If there was mud, that was where he would find her. And so he did, watching as she rolled around laughing breathlessly in the grass next to a stream in one of the many small botanical gardens that dotted the city. 

"Six decades, and the _first_ time I see you, you're already trying to shirk your guardians." He drawled, folding his arms as she sat up and twisted to stare at him. He worried she might not recognize him until she scampered up and hustled over. 

"Hey! Wow, you got _tall_! That's not fair! I was taller than you before, and now I'm head and shoulders shorter! Oh, hey, you brought your friend too." She waved amiably, and his friend cautiously bobbed his head in greeting. 

"They're coming." His friend muttered, watching the path behind them.

"_Shoot._ Pretend that I'm not here." 

He looked back, blinking as her soul - and her - were suddenly curiously absent before glancing at his friend who seemed as baffled as he was. 

* * *

"Man, I thought they'd _never_ leave." 

He almost jumped out of his skin as her voice came from directly behind him, and his best friend seemed to have fared no better. Both of them spun around to stare at the sodden, robe-clad figure of the girl as she reached down and started trying to wring the hem of her outfit.

"What."

"When you left, you couldn't hide yourself at _all_. How did you do that?" He studied her, before waving his hand. Water shed from her robes as if it had an abject terror of the material, and she straightened with a laugh.

"Hey! That's a neat trick. I can't wrap myself up like you can - And wow, you've gotten really good at it!" She raised one hand, and snapped her fingers. Both of them watched as her soul shifted, rotating and pulling on the ambient aether to match and blend in. "But I _can_ camoflauge myself. So I made myself look like 'water' to them. And t'you, I guess. I reflected the immediate area around me."

He and his friend shared a glance, before his best friend, basically his twin, stepped up and tucked a hand against his chest. 

"I'm Raf, and I'm going to become a Hythlodaeus."

She studied him for a long moment, before beaming at him. 

"I think you'd make a good one. I'm Persephone."

"What are you training to become?" Rafail tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to act cool as she studied him for a long moment. 

"You're _trustworthy_. But you're also sneaky and secretive, just like him-" She jerked a thumb at him, and he shared a glance with his best friend. "-but I'll tell you what. I'll share what I'm training to become, if he shares what he's got planned out for his own career path."

Two sets of eyes, one blue and one a pale gold mirror to his own, settled on him. He raised his arms. 

"Weeellll... That's... I'm not... Supposed to talk about that."

"Guess you'll never know then." She grinned, and there was just a hint of teasing in it as he threw his arms up in the air.

"You're impossible! Alright, I'm training to be the next Emet-Selch, but _don't tell anyone._"

Persephone tilted her head to the side, before nodding slowly. 

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it too much. I'm going to be an Eschaton one day, anyways."

Both of the boys boggled at her, but as Hades thought about it he realized it explained so, _so_ much about her.

* * *

They met every three days for a decade, until she told them she had to leave again. She couldn't tell them for how long, either, shrugging and saying she didn't even know herself when either of them asked her. After she was gone he found himself missing her terribly. Rafail found him at the pond that Hades and Persephone had initially met at, draped over the tree branch with a book on his face so that he could idly nap and think in turns.

"Hades, it's almost curfew. Emet-Selch's been expecting you for hours now." 

He didn't much of an answer beyond exaggerated snoring. 

"_Hades_." Raf stepped over to knock on the tree trunk, knowing full well his friend was feigning it. "You've been thinking about _her_ again, haven't you."

"Nothing wrong with that." He heaved a sigh, pulling the book off his face and shifting to peer down at his best friend. 

"It's been _five years_. Barely any time at all-"

"She will be back in six years at the latest, Rafail. I've got to plan and prepare for the chaos she brings with her. You _know_ what she gets like when she gets bored." Rolling the rest of the way, he dropped to the ground and oofed quietly as he bent his knees to cushion the fall. "If _you_ want to try and convince her not to try and break into the Capital one more time, I'm all for hearing what, exactly, you plan to say. 'Tis impossible to do so without utterly distracting her, and you know it."

"_If_ she was even telling the truth. They don't announce the succession candidates until then, so we don't even know if the Eschaton is thinking about stepping down. She could be gearing up to become a Prosperina and just wanted to show off. I looked into it. There hasn't been even a peep of gossip about the Agricultural district, not even a whisper of any children born there near the same time we were." He folded his arms, watching as Hades brushed himself off and tucked the book up his sleeve, where it vanished. 

"You _know_ she was. Otherwise you wouldn't have trusted her with even part of your name." Stretching, Hades sighed and then let his arms dangle at his sides. "Only time will tell. It's only a few years away anyways. I suppose I should go and see what the old bugger is up to, though."

* * *

The Eschaton stepped forward, soul a riot of colours, and addressed the crowd. Elsewhere, across the city, the gathering was being broadcast live across the sides of buildings, so that news could spread properly. 

"Citizens of Amaurot. Firstly, I would like to congratulate my co-worker on finding a suitable heir to her legacy. The title of Emet-Selch is a heavy one indeed, and I have long respected her ability to maintain our fair city. Together, we have worked hand in hand throughout the centuries. However..." He paused, scanning the crowd. "... Her desire to step down, rooted as you know in an interest in starting an experimental city, has long been an echo of my own desire to go out and work more closely with our Star. As such, I have decided that I, too, will step down."

Murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd, before he raised a hand to silence them. As they settled down, Eschaton turned slightly and held out an arm. _She_ came out of nowhere and crossed the stage to stand beside him, and just as his Mentor had tucked an arm around his shoulders, so too did hers. He even jostled her slightly, causing her to discreetly nudge him with a foot. Murmurs rippled through the crowd once more, many of them worried. An unsanctioned child? The current generation was all _boys_, yet here was a _girl!_

Idle amusement, as if Eschaton and his student were sharing a private joke, wove between the two of them as he continued. 

"I am proud to say that she will take up my legacy within the next three centuries. That is all."

He stepped away from the podium, guiding her to stand next him as he folded his hands behind his back. 

Lahabrea took the stage next.

* * *

"Are you from another city?"

She groaned out a sigh, sleeves rolled up and knee-deep in a pond as Raf needled her with questions. 

"Fine! I'll talk. You've been at this for _three weeks_." 

Hades straightened from where he had been lounging on the grassy bank, playing with his pencil and ignoring his advanced aetherology homework. Rafail sat up as well, watching as she hauled out a wad mud so that she could amble a few steps and shore up the small underwater castle she was making. 

"I was born a boy, like you two. I'm even from your district, from what I can tell. I don't remember much." She patted and straightened a section of underwater wall, trying to gather her thoughts. "I wasn't... It never felt -right-, though, I remember that, and I kept getting agitated. The Eschaton was passing by, and happened to hear me crying through a window I guess , because then he was picking me up. I wasn't even old enough to speak, but apparently he figured out what was wrong and then filed all the paperwork needed to get me transferred into his care. I've been a girl ever since."

Rafail and Hades shared a glance. The former's emerald-hued soul shifting in contemplation even as the latter's remained hidden.

"That... Must have been within _days_ of being born." 

"I don't know," Hades settled an elbow onto a knee and propped his chin up on a fist. "This is _'Seph_ we're talking about. She can barely remember what time it is, let alone what she ate a few days ago."

The wad of mud that went sailing through the air to splattered against the shield he waved into existence, and she scooped up another handful with a grin. 

"You cheeky _gumdrop_. Let's see how sassy you can be when I stuff this down your _robes_."

* * *

There was a fifty-fifty chance that the office had been officially labeled as _hers_ would either be utterly unused, or so full of useless, pointless things that there was standing room only. That was, he told himself, the only reason why he had volunteered to run his Mentor's paperwork over, and nothing more. He made his way through the Agricultural center, stack of papers in hand and tried to figure out what it might be based off the building it was housed in. Everything was loud, filled with the wild cacophony of animal calls and voices and the air never _smelled_ the same in any ten foot block that he traversed. Most of the people seemed to have _pets_ of some kind, and in the rafters a variety of shaped flit and scampered about. The floor wasn't a uniform material, either, as it seemed that everyone's work space was personalized to their own desires. Some people lounged on patches of grass, and across the far end of the hall rose a collection of rock formations that each had their own waterfall and a series of hanging vines and mosses that drifted in the breeze. Each example seemed as though someone had tried to improve on it and parked their own nearby to show off.

It wasn't the noise he was used to, and he wandered a little bit as he got lost in the chaos. 

She found him, surprisingly, souring his mood for a moment as she tapped one of his shoulders and ducked around to his other side as he looked that way so that she could snatch the papers from his hands. 

"What've you got here? Ohh, are these building plans?" 

Hades snatched them right back, clutching them to his chest even as he scowled at her from beneath his mask. She simply laughed and snagged his arm to drag him over to an organic lift, vines shifting and hauling it up before she was dragging him along. 

"C'mon! It's quieter this way."

"I have to deliver these to Eschaton. I can't just-"

"Hey Dad! This is the friend I was talking about! He's got paperwork for you." Persephone had hauled them into a large office that hung over the main hall and was waving at the riot of colours that was partially hanging out of the window that overlooked everyone's work below, a stick with a net on it stretched out to try and capture the stick-bugs that were making their way along the wall. 

"_Shoot._ Give an old man a hand, will you?"

She bound over, leaving Hades for the moment so that she could take the net and scamper up onto the railing. Balancing, she pressed against the wall and eased out onto the windowsill before clambering up on top of it to precariously perch on the narrow ledge above it. Several quick fwaps with the net, and she was offering it back down to her Mentor and jumping down into his arms. 

"Oof, you're a bit too big for that these days. Alright, let's have at it." 

"Uh... I, ahh... Emet-Selch-"

"Not yet, but one day that's the hope." Eschaton twisted the net, trapping the stick-bugs and setting it down onto his cluttered desk. There was a cheerful candor to him, and he laughed as he reached out to accept the hastily offered stack of papers. "Construction plans? What's that old bat looking to build -now-."

"I, umm..." Hades stifled the way he wanted to cringe as Persephone rifled through the paperwork with the Eschaton and pointed.

"I think it could use an aquarium right through here." 

"Problem. Flying outpost."

"_Flying?_ What's she gunna do, tie tons of birds to strings and have them carry it?" 

"Good question! Come here, boy." Eschaton gestured to him, and he reluctantly shuffled over as one part of the blueprints were offered out. "These are the engines. They're placed at the four corners. What would you do differently?"

"I'd... Nothing. The four engines provide adequate lift to-"

The Convocation member waved a hand to hush him, sighing. "Don't feel bad, you'll get another chance in a moment. Kid?"

"Cerulean Skygroves. It'll cut down on directional lift, but it won't make -nearly- as many fumes. You could start an ecosystem then, and they'll draw enough sunlight to power something that big if there's enough of them."

"Ohh, that's a good one." He snapped his fingers, pulling a red pen out of thin air and scrawling as much onto the blueprints. "Alright, boy. Your turn again. She's been taught to think less about the thing itself and more about how it effects everything around them, so how would you compromise?"

Hades blinked at the expectant look he was getting from both of them, before clearing his throat and looking back at the blueprints. Carefully, he tapped two of the engines and turned the blueprints. "... I'd do it like this, so that it was more aerodynamic, and get rid of these two. Without the need to compensate for the extra lift, you would only need the two for steering."

Silence reigned for a moment, before he glanced back up to where Persephone and her Mentor were sharing a long look. 

"Out of everyone I've ever introduced you to, _this_ is the one you want to convince me of?" He was gestured at, and the riot of coloured flickered and shifted into an unrecognizable pattern.

"C'mon, Dad. I've known him most of my life and he never told anyone about me. Besides, _listen_ to him." She gestured to him, and Hades blinked as Eschaton tilted his head to the side and hummed. 

"True... I'll only agree if he mans up and decides it himself, though. I'll let _that_ be the true test of his mettle." Turning back to him, the Convocation member folded up the blueprints and the paperwork he hadn't even looked at, before offering it out. "Take this back to Emet-Selch, tell her exactly what you told me. Tell her that I _insist_ she stop being so _square_ in her thinking. Percy, you'll make sure he gets back alright, won't you? You've been chomping at the bit to get out and stretch your legs. Try not to get caught, if you decide to climb any buildings."

"Thank's Dad!"

And then she was pulling him along by the wrist, infinitely pleased by something and chattering away about a new kind of bird she was designing. Something with big wings, an improvement on a current evolutionary design. Something that could sleep in the air as it soared. He hummed and nodded conversationally, lost in the way the hue of her soul glittered excitedly. 

Above, countless eyes followed, and back in the office an old man with a rainbow of a soul smiled sadly as the winds murmured and whispered through the open window, stick-bugs dancing and congratulating him on the happiness of him and his.

* * *

"I know what you're thinking and I have to tell you that it's a bad idea. She's going to be Eschaton one day, and you already pine after her to just a ridiculous degree." Raf watched his friend, noting the ever so brief flickers of amethyst escaping from the well-hidden soul in front of him. They were at the library, finishing their studies for the evening, and Hades huffed quietly as he tapped his pencil against the equations he had been staring blankly at and doodling around. 

"And I'm going to be Emet-Selch. Equals in power. And I do _not_ pine after her." 

"Then why have you filled the margins with Clematis? You know that they're her favourite." Rafail reached out to tap the end of his pen against the doodles, and Hades sullenly snapped his book shut. 

"They are a complex flower with the capability to gradient between drastically different shades of blues, reds and purples. I _miss_ her, to that I will agree, but to _pine_ for her implies I spend my spare time writing bad poetry."

"When she becomes Eschaton, and you become Emet-Selch, you both are going to have drastically different lifestyles. One of you is going to be in the city almost constantly, and the other _won't_." Raf lifted his hands, as if to ask for peace. "I'm just worried. I like her too. There's rumors going around that the current Lahabrea has his eye on her, and he's going to have six hundred years in office under his belt by the time you even start. He'll have the pull to give her ideas merit, and-"

"Do you know what he _doesn't_ have?" Hades leaned forward, smirking as he did. His best friend rolled his eyes. 

"Food on his face?"

He reached up hurriedly to wipe away crumbs. "You're terrible. He doesn't have her Old Man's _implied permission_ to steal her away. I have a way into the Agricenter that I don't think even Emet-Selch knows about."

"And why, exactly, do you have this?" Rafail leaned forward, glancing about to make sure that nobody was watching them or listening too closely.

"Now _that_, is the wrong question." Hades smirked.


	26. One of these things is not like the others...

"Little Monster, I require more wine." Emet-Selch drawled idly, lounging in her bed and smirking as she rolled her eyes and poured him another glass, holding a platter of grapes with her other hand. A content sound hummed out of him as he lifted the glass to his mouth and took a slow sip, only to lick his lips. "I rather think I -like- this. 'Tis not what I enjoyed during my time as the Garlean Emperor, but well... You are _hardly_ able to be in multiple places at once."

"Oh, but your _Eminence_, isn't it the wait that makes it better?" She snickered, offering the tray out to him and holding it steady as he plucked up a grape. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed and watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze. 

"Weeellllll... Being the Emperor rather exempted me from any waiting required for the finer things in what you call a life." He wiggled his bare feet, before nodding to her and then nodding to his feet. She rolled her eyes and set the tray and the bottle aside so that she could sit down and pull one of his feet into her lap, getting to work. 

"A fair point, that. Well, I'll just have to keep working at it. Room service should be up with the food you had me order. You shoulda seen their faces when I gave them the recipes." She kneaded the ball of his foot, and the Ascian let out a content sigh, head tipping back onto one of the many, many pillows that had been stolen just for the occasion. "So, food, then bath?"

"Food, and then most _definitely_ bath. You have a rather wonderful one here, after all, 'tis simply a _shame_ that it sees so little use..." Eyelids fluttering closed, he flexed his toes and wiggled them in her grasp even as he lifted the cup to take another sip. "If _only_ you could massage my shoulders at the same time..."

"You'd fall asleep and you know it. And probably wake up with an inked face, 'cause I dunno if I could resist that tempting a target." She snickered, and shifted his foot from her lap only to collect the other and begin her work again. "Tell you what. I'll give you a shoulder massage while you bath. Deal?"

"Mm~, acceptable." Silent for a moment, he quirked a brow and lazily waved a hand towards the door. "The Exarch approaches. Go on."

"You sure? I'm of the belief he'd be fine coming back later." She quirked a brow as a knock sounded at the door, and he hummed softly. 

"No, 'tis fine. Simply swiftly return to me, my little Monster."

She nodded, shifting away and making her way to the door to open it to reveal the silver and red haired form of the Tia. "Heya, G'raha. World ending again?"

"Ahh, Hero. Thankfully, it seems that all is stable for now, however there have been some very odd aetheric readings from your rooms and I simply wished to know if everything was... Well, fine."

"Eh? Hmm. Hold on a sec. Hey! Architect!"

A relaxed grunt answered her. 

"You doing something weird with aether? The Exarch can't scry through it and was getting worried."

The quiet sound of a yawn answered her first, before the Ascian groaned and stretched, sighing softly after. "... No, I simply wished for some privacy."

"Well, there you have it." She looked back at the Tia, grinning. "Oh, and, uhh... If you get any reports about missing pillows, just... Deal with them later? They'll turn up in two days, tops."

"Pillows?" He gave her a puzzled look, ears twitching, before she held up a grinned ruefully. 

"I_ totally_ stole them so that I could pamper the equivalent of a large couerl who thinks he's still the Emperor of Garlemald. They're part of his throne for the time being, so I can't give them back yet." The Warrior lifted her hands, pressing them together in the classic 'begging for forgiveness' gesture. 

"Well, i suppose if it's for the greater good, I can overlook the pillows, just for a few days." The Exarch smiled, and the expression was echoed by the rogue. "So long as you're safe."

"Never. I- Ohh, is that the food we ordered?" 

* * *

The Warrior groaned out a sigh of relief as the Ascian's hands touched her, slowly working their way up and down the length of her torso. They eased around and along scars, traced the paths of old weapons and worked the warming oil across her skin. They found knots in the muscles and worked them out. 

"_My_, keep making sounds like that and I might start to get _ideas_." 

Her answer was a subvocal mass of incoherence, and she wasn't too proud to drool. She'd never _gotten_ a massage from someone else before, at least not that she could remember, and damned if she didn't feel more like a relaxed puddle of melted warm than she did a person. He had started on her arms and legs, before working his way across her back and torso. It was loads better than what she could do, though she unhesitatingly put the thought of him overreacting when she had tried her hand at it out of her mind. Of _course_ he overreacted. That was what he _did_. He was _dramatic_ and _very good with his hands_. It didn't mean that he hadn't actually enjoyed himself.

Another groan eased out of her, this one bordering on moan territory as his thumbs did something marvelous just below her shoulder blades. The sound drew a snicker from the Ascian that straddled her waist as he continued, and she foggily thought for a moment before mumbling something. The hands paused. 

"So _sorry_, Warrior. I couldn't quite hear you over the ever-expanding damp spot you've chosen to fuel with your saliva."

"... Said wonner whadda look like."

Her words brought an amused huff from him as he resumed. "Pale, ridiculously scarred, with your hair askew and an utterly vacant expression stamped across your usually expressive face."

"Mn. Meant _soul_."

The hands against her ribs stilled, and she could feel the slight tension that flit through the room. Curious, she cracked an eye open and looked back over her shoulder as best she could. His expression was a faint frown, almost sad, somewhat thoughtful before he turned to snag the bottle of oil and measure some out into the palm of one hand. He was stalling for time, she thought to herself, and hummed quietly as he resumed massaging her back. 

"... You wouldn't know, would you." He spoke haltingly, thinking over the words, _reflecting_ on them and all that they meant, before a quiet sigh eased out of his Garlean form. She roused slightly, gathering her wits so that she could talk properly and dragging a hand up to move the towel over and find a dry spot to rest her face. "What a thing to _ask_."

"I get there's a colour thing going on. And a shape thing. And sorta a pattern? Maybe? I saw you, really _saw_ you for a moment in Amaurot."

"And what did you think? What did your limited senses convey, your curious little brain translate?" He quirked a brow, curiosity briefly getting the better of him as he watched her. 

"_Beautiful_." The word was breathed out, and the Warrior closed her eyes as she pictured it in her mind. "Depthless, like the darkness 'tween the stars. Dark to the very heart of you, but the same way a sky without a _moon_ is. The further from the middle, the less black and more purple it got, like looking at an amethyst in the dark. Flecked through and with speckled pale gold that shifted, like so many stars that were too tired to shine brightly anymore, on the verge of giving up. I could stare at that _forever _and never get bored, never stop finding new patterns. At the center, I dunno. It was like there was a red to it that was being wrapped by a different type of black that didn't belong. Like glossy black where it should've been matte. I knew right off that it wasn't _you_, that it didn't belong... I'm sorry for how much that hurt you."

Emet-Selch smiled slightly at the words, smoothing his hands along either side of her spine and drawing an utterly content sigh out of her. "You have fortunately done quite a bit to make it up to me, though I hope you hold that moment in your mind for as long as you can. You cut into my _soul_, and siphoned the sections you carved from my core into a white auracite. You could have killed me, or worse."

"Worse?" Her brows furrowed as she echoed the word, blinking her eyes open and glancing at him again. 

"Each individual's soul holds who they are. It is the very marrow of their existence. You could have removed essentials such as my capacity to recall, you could have rendered me mute, blind or deaf in ways you would not understand. You could have permanently damaged me, down to the very fabric of who I am, or completely severed my ability to feel emotions beyond a certain capacity. You could have _missed_ and left only the tempering, reducing me to a raving fanatic like Lahabrea was." Reaching down, the Ascian tapped her nose before straightening and resuming his efforts. "... But you didn't. To which, I suppose, I should be a _modicum_ of thankful."

"... That's... A terrible bunch've thoughts, though at least your quote unquote 'evil laugh' is better than his. He put the bray in Lahabrea." Her face scrunched up. "But you're dodging the question, hoping I'ma forget that I asked it, aren't you."

"Just when I get used to you acting out the part of the fool, you show an uncanny insight that is almost _unsettling_." Emet-Selch tisked, tilted his head to the side, and started to drag one finger along her back as he contemplated how best to answer. "... Like your body, 'tis a horribly scarred and mangled thing, however..."

Hades closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, and opened his senses to the aetheric. 

"_Cracked_, a fractured crystal that borders on liquid. How you manage to _function_ so wounded is beyond me. An impossible hue of the bluest blue. Sapphire and ultramarine, washed out and faded as if a curtain left too long in the sun. All jagged edges, barely-connected pieces that spin and orbit the main mass. A core of cobalt, contained by ragged, torn silver threads which connect outwards to the disconnected pieces even as they trail, severed from whatever they once touched." His mouth twisted into an ugly, bitter expression before turning wistful. "Ohh, but how you _glow_, Warrior, like bioluminescent moss, illuminating without shedding light until agitated or emotional. And 'tis not half because of the lightwarden aether you have caught and trapped within your own shell. It lights you from within, but could not contend with the crystalline vault you have trapped and tied it with. Not any more, at least. T'was almost painful to see how you housed it within the bulk of your broken form, more it than you."

"I should probably do something about that. It's annoying, having to muckle down on it all the time. Elidibus riling it up like he did just proves that I need to find a better solution. Just 'cause I can hold it doesn't mean I have to or should. In the meantime, though..." She stretched under him, and he blinked open his eyes as she arched her spine and rolled her rump upwards against his crotch. The quirk of his brow was met by the impish grin she shot over her shoulder, and he rolled his eyes even as he leaned down so that she could solicit a kiss from him. 

"Utterly _insatiable_ little Monster."

"What can I say, I don't got forever to live. Some of us gotta move a little faster to enjoy life."

* * *

On the third day, they finally left the room so that the cleaning staff could return the pillows and do their job. They spent it idly meandering, sometimes taking the main streets, other times taking the back alleys so that she wasn't mobbed by the well-intended populace. A linkpearl call reassured her that Ryne, Thancred and their 'guest' were still fine, still untouched by the ambient light aether, and that it was okay to take the time needed to get their astrologian back on his feet with his will intact. 

On a whim, she decided to visit him through unconventional means. They headed back to the Pendulum so that they could scale the side of the building, find the window to his room, and quietly break in. A quick survey of the room turned up their target elezen, sleeping in a chair, surrounded by books and a half-finished stone-cold cup of tea. 

The Warrior tiptoed her way over, stepping around scattered diagrams and crumpled balls of parchment as she approached the chair and gestured for the floating Ascian to pass her the blanket from the bed. A brief drift later and he was handing it to her, watching as she deftly tucked the blanket around him. Urianger didn't so much as stir, snoring softly all the while, and she gave Emet-Selch a thumbs up before they both retreated back towards the window. A short climb down, and she was stretching and peering at the Ascian curiously.

"How's he look? Still tempered?"

"Minorly. It should take the rest of a week to work out of his system, at the latest. He still fights it, though for all that he does some of his diagrams depicted ways to resurrect Titan by using Eden's powers once more. Hardly surprising." 

"You look like you knew him." _That_ caught him offguard, and he glanced at her to take in the idle, honest curiosity across her face even as she lifted her hands, amusement colouring her tone. "What. Ever since I met him we've been fast friends, and sort've like you we immediately clicked like we'd been working together for ages. If everyone's sundered fragments of folk, then it stands to reason you probably see a lot of pieces of the souls of those you knew."

"You have walked Amaurot, you tell _me_." Folding his arms, he lifted his chin and sought to look unaffected and bored, hoping against hope that she might piece together what he could see clear as day. The Warrior's brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. 

"... Hythlodaeus?"

"Well now, there _is_ a working brain in there." The Ascian turned back to where he was peering upwards. 

"I thought so. You both have almost the same eyes, and Hythlodaeus did the thing where he lifts a hand to his chin in thought exactly the same way Urianger does, head tilt and all." She stepped in to wrap her arms around him, sighing into his coat as he relented and tucked an arm around her in turn. "Welp. All I can do is keep at what I've been doing this whole time."

"And that would be?"

"Keeping you distracted enough to live in the now so that you don't have to mourn so heavily. Kiss me?" 

Pale gold eyes rolled, but he obliged her nonetheless.

* * *

They left a message with the Exarch, in the event that anyone came looking for them (or, as was more likely, for her) that they were returning to the Source for a few days to make sure that nobody panicked and thought the Scions had died and also to keep tabs on the Garlemald and how likely they were to return to their war effort within the next few months. There was a list of requested items, so she took that with her before stepping through the portal with a wave. 

Hades left his body where he usually did, and flit through the aether to the Source before making his way to his chosen vessel in Azys Lla. Irritation flit through him when he realized it wasn't wasn't where he _left_ it. It couldn't have been Zenos choosing to act like an utter _brat,_ because he was still in containment, held in a state of stasis, so who, exactly, had touched his _things_? None of the three clones remained, and while it was a simple matter of fashioning a new one or finding some pour soul to warp and inhabit, it meant that something had stolen his _face_ and was wandering around with it. It was decidedly _worrying._

The list of people who could walk into Azys Lla and walk out again wearing his vessels was slim, and Elidibus was curiously absent from the Source.

Ugly wrath bubbled through him as he rather suddenly lost the ability to feel the minuscule chip of himself that she wore. 

* * *

She had barely finished stepping down from the aetherite plaza before Emet-Selch was there, smirking and snagging her wrist to pull her through a void portal. She hadn't thought much of the faint sense of _wrong_ that had tickled across her sensibilities until she found herself on a featureless white, sandy plain that met a dark, starry night in all directions. She had paused at that, peering around and then glancing up to confirm her suspicions.

There, set high in the sky, sat the blue marble of the Star visible through what she traced the glimmer of and discerned was a dome. Everything moved weirdly there, and she found herself inexplicably drifting with each movement as if she was submerged in water. A glance over had her meeting Emet-Selch's eye, and she frowned. He was holding himself differently. There was less of a slouch to him.

"Look, if you wanted to talk there's better ways to do it than spiriting me away to the _moon_. I'm pretty sure the owner of that body's gunna be preeetty pissed when he finds us here."

"The Architect will be some time. Until then, this is the safest place for us to speak. If you try and fight me here, the dome will pop and you will choke on the nothingness between the stars." He folded his arms, and the Warrior rolled her eyes. 

"Can you at least get out've his body? I can't take you seriously like this, and it makes for a poor hostage when he's got more." She blinked at the calculating smirk that crossed his face, and lifted a hand to cover her own. "... But of course you've got them all, don't you. How long d'you think it'll take for him to look up?"

"Too long. Now then. You know that Hydaelyn is the source of our problems. You know that Zodiark's purpose is only to save our Star. All lives lost will be reborn as their rightful, complete selves once the Ardor is complete, and the balance between light and dark shall be reestablished. You know all of these things, and yet you still persist with your endeavors to run counter to our purpose. Why."

"Uhh, I dunno, probably because _mass murder_ is wrong?" The Warrior spread her hands, exasperated. "It doesn't matter the reasons. Killing people to have them be reborn? Just as much a murder as killing someone 'cause they stole your sandwich. And that's even when you ignore the fact that when Zodiark's put back together and woken up, he's gunna be _hungry_. Every use of his power beyond the first was a pretense to feed him more power. The Star was dying because there wasn't enough being put back into it after all the thousands of years of our people's creation magics, so even though he bought you guys time if-"

"I don't know... Why I even try with you, any more." Elidibus stared at her, and she shrugged even as she drew one of those nasty, black blades so that she could inspect it. "That you should so continue to blaspheme, it's a wonder that Emet-Selch puts up with you."

"You think this is bad, you're gunna -hate- what I'm about to do next." She flashed a grin, sucked in a breath, and kicked off from the ground as hard as she could. She led with the sword, and as it touched the edge of the barrier, the entire thing popped to suck her upwards and give her momentum into the vacuum. 

Pointless, he thought as he watched. She would be dead within the minute. Even now, frost was starting to line her and her eyes were turning bloodshot, but all she did was sheath the blade and grip her forearm. He watched as her soul flickered, and she let out the breath she was holding as death caught her. Part-way through turning, the Emissary paused and snapped his gaze upwards, an odd double-beat pulsing outwards. 

Her eyes focused on him, and she bared her teeth in a feral, pained grin even as tendrils of darkness tore open the expanse behind her to allow two massive, clawed arms to tear out and scoop her up. They cradled her as Hades vibrated his wrath through the air he had pulled into being and drifted back through the hole he had torn open.

* * *

A spark of reconnected _awareness_ had tickled his essence as he searched, and he answered with all due haste. Of _course_ Elidibus had set something up to prevent aether-attuned senses from picking up where he had taken her. He was bound to have figured out how to considering it was a method used in Amaurot to filter out the press of souls so that they could be comfortable in the silence of their own apartments. It wasn't even that difficult of a trick. Still, he knew what the vacuum between the Stars was like for people who needed to breath, and while he was well aware of her inability to stay dead that didn't mean he wasn't equally aware of how horrible a way it was to go. 

She still _felt_ it, when she expired. Oh, but he would have the Emissary's _head_ for this.

Reaching out even as he surged and manifested through the void portal, he scooped her up and tucked her stiff, frozen, still dying form against his chest and snapped his more human fingers. A shimmer suffused the air around them, and suddenly he could hear the way she gasped and sucked in a relieved lungful of air.

"Worse... than... _drowning_..." 

Darkness rose around them as he continued back, staring down at the body that Elidibus was staring at him from. They came out above Azys Lla, and he kept her tucked against him the way someone would have carried a kitten even as he drifted down and then stalked menacingly through doorways that opened without so much as a wave. She was still so _cold_, and his more human hands chaffed at her skin in an attempt to rub some warmth back into her. 

**<<Do you trust me?>>**

"D-d-do y'gottata ask?"

Her teeth were chattering. She was still too cold. He studied her for a moment, trying to decide just how much _he_ trusted _her_. 

A pointless question.

Four arms moved in tandem, one almost delicately shifting his mask aside enough that she could be ever so gingerly tucked against the very core of him. His aether washed over her, washed through her, and after a moment of hesitation he could feel the way her hands clumsily sought purchase so that she could drape herself over his hidden, pulsing heart. When she caught a particular tender edge, he let out a pained hiss, and she worked to avoid what edges she could as he let his mask settle back into place. 

He could _feel_ her, sheltered within him, sheltered by him, could feel the way his aether was saturating her own, mixing and mingling, and leeched as much of the cold from her as he could even as he steeled himself against the way it numbed him like some manner of perverse brain freeze. It was worth it, though, to be able to watch as she relaxed and the shivering stopped over the course of a matter of minutes. Less so when she started to trace idle patterns across his core, for all that it sent him tipping and catching himself with a clawed hand against the wall.

**<<_-Please-_, little Monster, if you must do that at the very least _forewarn_ me when your hands become curious. How would _you_ like it if I reached into your very essence without warning and _tickled_ you?>>**

She rasped a snicker, but kept her hands still while he bore her through the halls. At length, he came to the rooms he had set aside for himself and drifted in, the door closing behind him and shutting out the worst of the mechanical hum. Drifting there, he internally grimaced before teasing aside his mask and folding his hands inwards, offering them out to her. 

**<<Come now, out.>>**

She was particularly careful as she squirmed and shifted, twisting to grasp first one offered hand, then the other, and he swung her out of the cavity of his chest and cradled her with the palms of his larger, clawed appendages so that he could look over over with a pair of eyes instead of his senses.

She looked _dazed_, pupils blown and watching him as she swayed where she sat. He thought it might be from the Echo but then reasoned that no, more than likely her body having difficulty handling the over-saturation from his aether. Another check confirmed it, and he tisked before drifting over to the large, four-poster bed so that she could lay down.

**<<Can I trust you to stay here until I return?>>**

The Warrior's brows furrowed in thought before she slurred something out that might have been an affirmative. He stared at her as she beamed goofily, one large hand coming up to cover his mask. He would just have to risk it.


	27. None, or half?

She couldn't tell what, exactly, was wrong, but she knew it was _something_. The world around her was tinged with odd colours, and she had a foggy notion that she _should_ have been in pain, but that there had been an odd balance achieved instead. 

One part shackled light, one part willing, cradled by two parts velvet soft dark. There was a slight itch against her forearm, and she mustered the strength to loll her head to stare at it even as she rolled her arm. There was a dark chunk of crystal there, and she clumsily thumbed over it. A tug on her sensibilities had her lolling her head back towards the room at large, and she blinked as Emet-Selch stepped through. 

Or _was_ it. Some part of her was _suspicious_, but she hauled a hand up to wave nonetheless. No point in being _rude_.

"'Lo." Pale gold eyes rolled as he stepped forward to catch her hand, even as the other lifted to press cool, ungloved fingers against her forehead. There was a whisper of movement across her, and some of the miasma lifted even as her head began to throb. "... Oof."

"I _may_ have overdone it-" The Ascian sounded reluctant to admit as much, but all was forgiven as he turned away and picked a bottle, offering it out to her. "-but the mild fever and the physical weakness that plagues you will pass. How do you feel?"

"Less... Foggy. Last thing I remember is... Wow, that was just... Awful to go through. Definitely the worst death. Drowning when I fought Leviathan had that spot before, but no more more." The Warrior reached with her free hand to grasp the bottle, drawing it closer and staring at the cork as if it had betrayed her. Emet-Selch reached forward and wiggled it free with a pop so that she could take a swig of whatever was in the bottle. Blinking, she licked her lips and then stared at the lack of a label, looking suspicious. "This... Is the wine. I remember this. A drink for remembering?"

"Garlean Red. Red wine has proven to be useful for those with _brain damage_, and I wish to avoid tempting fate where _you_ are concerned." He smirked as she stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Asshat." The word lacked any true venom though, and she gave him a small smile as she glanced down at where he was still holding her hand. "... I knew you'd catch me. I figured the thing that was keeping the air in was probably also keeping you out, so I cut it."

"Ohhh, so I was saving you from your _own_ foolishness-"

"Hey now, don't sneer like that." She squeezed his hand just as gently as she spoke, and he looked away, bitter. "I didn't ask to get kidnapped and brought to the bloody _moon_. I tried to tell him the same thing you know, and he said it was blasphemy and I wanted to say that he doesn't even _know_ if there's gunna be any life left to sacrifice after all the shards rejoined but he's _tempered_ so it's not like he's gunna listen to me. You didn't, and you had a much better reason to listen to me."

Emet-Selch was silent at that, though, after a long moment he gently squeezed her hand in return. He didn't have to even search her aether to see how she lit up at the tiny gesture. 

"Everything's a horrible _mess_. You're upset that your vessels were stolen, _furious_ that Elidibus snagged me like that. I get it, I really do. I'd be too. I kinda am, though I should've been able to tell that it wasn't you. I thought something was wrong even as I stepped through, but it was right after and I thought maybe I was still wonky from the portal." She lifted the bottle, taking a swig before offering it over. The Ascian glanced at it, and then took it to take a sip for himself. "Much as I _really_ hate the idea of you fighting the only other unsundered from Amaurot, I don't think there's a force on this Star that can stop you now. So... All I gotta say is if you need help I got your back. I got some ideas, too, though I'll need to practice and for you to help guide me."

"You sound as if you have a _plan_, Warrior."

"Maybe. One that might do. I'll need Zenos, though."

* * *

Allagan cloning technology was far beyond that which he had given piecemeal to the Garleans. It hadn't been hard to give his great-grandson a new body, nor to transfer his soul to it using the power of his own Resonant. The problem, was that the body wasn't anywhere near what Zenos had cultivated his body to before, and that his mind wasn't any more stable than it had been before. 

Of course, Hades _could_ have just made his body stronger, raised it up to the level of his old one, but he chose not to. He also very pointedly swept the room for anything passably sword-shaped that wasn't held by his Warrior as she sat on a chair he had dragged over for her. He tried to ignore the squeak of the wheels as she kicked herself along, as delighted as a child, and sighed. For all that she was at half-strength _(haaah.)_ she certainly seemed chipper and in good health. 

"Have you decided as to what you intend to say, Hero?"

"Not really. Any time I try and plan something out it ends up going to shit anyways." She wheeled herself to the center of the room, watching the tube before glancing over. "Ready?"

He heaved a sigh, and snapped his fingers. Zenos tumbled to the ground between them, before convulsing and couching up a lungful of the fluid he had been suspended in. Pushing himself up, he snapped his gaze around, eyes bleeding to black and red as he caught sight of Emet-Selch. 

"You..."

"Morning, Zenos." 

Red and black eyes widened, before he twisted and rolled, settling onto his rump with his legs splayed out as the Warrior leaned forward and tucked her elbows onto her knees. 

"Yeah. Not dead yet. Though, I mean, if you really _want_ to die I can humour you. But that's not what you want, is it." She brought her hands up, lacing her fingers together and resting her mouth against them as they watched one another. 

"You... You _burned_ me, and it wouldn't go out, and you were breaking." He was narrowing his eyes, even as they bled back to white with blue irises. "I could feel it."

"I _really _was. Elidibus started to cheat part way through. It was an all around Bad Time. But times change. You're physically pretty pathetically weak right now. I think it suits you, y'know, because you get to work your way up all over again. I didn't wake you up for that, though." Her eyes narrowed as he started pushing himself up, wobbling a little as he stood and watched her the way a hound would stare down a wolf; cautiously, warily, intrigued by this odd, familiar yet strange shape. "I want two things of you, and I'm gunna do this the Garlean way, so that there's no possible way you misunderstand me."

"You intend to follow our motto of might makes right?" Zenos started to grin, feet shifting apart as he lowered himself into a slight crouch, hands coming up as she sighed and slipped from the chair. He blinked as she stumbled, caught herself, and then straightened. 

"I do. I'd hoped that the last win I had against you might let us skip this part though. If I win, you work for _my_ goals for a month. At the end of that month, we'll fight again, and if I win again then that time extends to a year. So on, and so forth, you and me, beating the ever-living shit out of each other."

"And if I win?"

"It doesn't matter." She gave him an ugly smile. "You won't. But just to give you something to work for, pick something."

He thought about it for a moment, before a vicious grin crossed his face as he straightened to point to her. "I want _you_. You understand. You know, what it's like, to fight the way we do. I will make you _submit_."

Emet-Selch covered his face with his palm. The boy truly _was_ imbalanced...

"Sure, whatever."

The Ascian squinted, looking between his fingers at her as she yawned, the scene at odds with the way her aether surged with irritated, building anger.

"Before we start, though, just a heads up. I'm -really- sorry for what I'm gunna do."

Zenos narrowed his eyes briefly, before they bled to black and red, and Emet-Selch let his senses expand out to take in that level of aetheric reading that she fell into naturally, only to blink at what he saw. Flickers of orange and red, laying themselves out in patterns as intent flickered through the minds of each. They both stood there, reading, watching, before Zenos snarled in frustration and charged forward. 

With the Resonant, he was _very_ fast. But his body was weaker than he was used to, and the Warrior barely had to try. She stepped aside, avoiding his grab and bringing a fist into his gut for a quick jab that had him hurking before she reached around him to tuck a hand against the small of his back and hauled him over her leg when she leaned further out of the way, sending him staggering and reaching for the wheeled chair. Taking it up, he spun and swung it only for her to drop down under it in a crouch and peer up at him, quirking a brow. 

"Not half ba-ack!" 

Zenos had let go of the chair so that it continued over her head, dropped down, and lunged. She tumbled backwards, bracing herself and getting her feet between them to lever him up and over her so that he hit the ground a few feet away. The Warrior finished her roll, getting back up and wobbling somewhat even as she turned to face him. 

He didn't stay down for very long, coming back up and charging back in with a roar of 'Fight me!' that she answered with a sigh and skipped backwards, out of reach. 

"I suppose I should. C'mon then, bring your face to my boot."

He was only too happy to oblige, already more comfortable in his body than he had been at the beginning and narrowing what he probably thought was the gap. After the shot to his stomach, he had a semblance of a guard up and kept his jabs calculated even as she almost lazily spun to swat them away. She took a few half-hearted shots at him in return, but kept them few and far between to avoid giving him the chance to grab her and get a proper advantage, leading him back to the chair that she hopped over.

He went to follow her, and she kicked the back of the chair up so that he had to bring a hand down to catch it, holding the back steady. Black and red eyes widened as she surged into motion, bolting the three-step gap between them, stepped onto the chair, then leaped and twisted to dropkick him in the face, sending him staggering back. Hitting the ground in a roll, she reoriented herself and charged once more. Kicking the chair again, it skid across the ground and hit him across the knees, sending him ever so slightly off balance as he dropped his hands from his face and reached to push it away. 

The Resonant made him fast. He had a better grasp of his body's capabilities, but for all that she was dizzy with a fever she was _faster._

She skipped onto the chair once more, and it rolled back towards him a fraction of an ilm in his grasp before she was kicking off of it once more. He had brought a hand up to try and catch her foot, but she was spinning this time and his hand hit against her knee even as the other foot came around to catch him about the ear and snap his head to the side, sending him staggering once more. Landing with a clatter, she came forward once more and darted abruptly to the side as he swung with a heavy backhand. She kept just ahead of the ghost of it, and as he finished his extension she ducked under it and laid into his kidneys with rapid, short jabs. 

For Emet-Selch, it was like watching a dance. Zenos would move to swing, to do anything but defend or dodge and she was around him and hammering into his kidneys. A lifetime of climbing and the Echo made her stronger, each dull thud echoing slightly through the otherwise empty room, and it wasn't long before he was staggering and weaving. 

She tripped him, and as he went down she booted him in the side. Ribs creaked, and he almost caught her before she was gone, back and around him and booting him on the other side. He managed to fend her off as she skipped around to begin again, working his way to his knees, to his feet, and she gave him her singular warning. 

"You've got a chance to surrender, Zenos. What comes next won't be _pretty_."

He threw the chair at her, and she made her way smoothly under it so that she could straighten and snap-kick him in the balls. His eyes went impossibly wide, even as his mouth formed an 'o', and he went down hard without a sound, curling on his knees. The Ascian flinched, cringing in sympathy, watching as she went and got the chair so that she could bring it back over an sit down. 

"I'm not _proud_. You know as well as I do though, that a win's a win. You forfeit all rules of honourable engagement when you decided to hold people _hostage_ just to fight me. It's my win, though."

"I... I can..." He grit his teeth, lifting his head before freezing as his Resonant painted the floor in reds and oranges everywhere save for directly under the Ascian. She leaned forward and spoke very carefully, very deliberately for him. 

"The only safe spot in this room, is where the man I have welcomed into the circle of my heart and my arms stands, and that's -only- because he's capable and well equipped to defend himself from the likes of _-_you-, _Maggot_. The next time you _dare_ to think about taking me in any way but an actual, straight-up fight, I won't just boot you in the balls, I'll _cut them off_ and _feed them to you_. I played along this time, because you didn't have the _ghost_ of a chance, but I belong to _him_, and no-one else." She reached down to tuck a finger under his chin, raising his startled gaze to her own unamused, flat glare. "Next time you _dare_, I will _burn_ you, and I will make it eat through your flesh down to the very marrow of your bones so that it's _slow. _I'll make sure I have my stock of potions on hand to keep you alive for as _long as possible,_ and I'll have Urianger's little _toy_ that stopped Fordola's Resonant so that you get to stick around for _all of it._ I won't ask if you understand. All that matters is that I have told you this thing, and told it to you true. The rest, is up to you."

Zenos swallowed slightly, torn between fear and perverse adoration as she leaned back in the chair and folded her arms, crossing one leg over the other. 

"Now that I have your attention, my friend." she drawled, tilting her head to the side and cracking her neck. "Here's what I want you to do."

* * *

They gave Zenos one of the Allagan swords and a skiff to take back to Garlemald. The date was set for a month away, as well as the location, and she watched as he disappeared off into the world until arms curled around her from behind and pulled her back against the Ascian's chest. 

"_Did you mean it._"

The words were growled out, practically into her ear, and she tensed as she took in the restrained, controlled tone to them. Oh yeah, she thought to herself. He's _possessive_ and _obsessive_. She turned her face so that she could side-eye him and grinned cheekily. 

"You've waited an eternity for anything you could get of _her_. I might be a pale imitation, but I'm yours-" Blood rushed to her face as he growled low again and let go of her, only so that he could spin her around and crush his lips against hers. The Warrior brought her arms up, circling them around his neck as he pulled her against his chest once more. They didn't break apart until she whined, dizzy from more than the fever. 

"Hades, I, uhh, I don't think-" He scooped her up, spinning and twirling them through a patch of darkness so that they came out in his rooms. She clutched at his coat with one hand, the other coming up to press against her head. "-Seven hells that's loads worse when I'm not on my own two feet."

"I know." His tone still held that growl that was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and he swept them both over to the bed and laid her down before shrugging out of his coat, dropping it into a pile. He surveyed her, hands on his hips before crawling onto the bed and over her, stretching out against her side and pulling the Warrior partially onto his chest with a happy sigh. "But, point of importance..."

She hummed inquisitively, kicking off her boots and knocking them off the bed even as she rested contently against him. A gloved hand tucked under her chin, tilting her face up much the same as she had done to Zenos, meeting the Ascian's eyes and blinking. 

"You are _not_ an imitation. Reincarnation or not, you are _here_, and you are enough _her_ now that it does not matter. Different people, same person, you are the only who you lays here in the circle of my arms, little Monster. You seek to aid us with the Ardor, after a fashion, so 'tis only a matter of time before you are fully one and the same regardless. I would no more stop loving you, stop loving _her_ than any proper husband would fail to care for their love should they befall an accident and lose their memory." 

She laughed, shifting up enough to tenderly kiss him before she settled back against his chest, and he didn't press the faint, ever brief flicker of doubt that had rippled through her and was largely hidden by amused contentment. They had time. They were both effectively immortal, after a fashion. He had already waited uncounted eons for her. They'd find a way together.

Half of a pomegranate was, in his opinion, better than starving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Says they're likely going to post less, because of reasons*  
*Gets home, does one movie roulette, says fuck it and goes back to writing*  
Welp. I'm hooped and hopeless.  
Everyone's comments keep me going, and reading people's reactions and words in regards to this fanfic is utterly -intoxicating-.  
Also, if we get to 100 comments, I'll drop her name.  
Unless, of course, nobody wants me to.  
Let me know!


	28. Enjoying the view

She woke up to the softest of bitten-back sounds. Her fever was better, she could tell because her head didn't feel anywhere near as muzzy, though there was a lingering ache in her joints. She had that well-rested feeling, as if she had slept for far longer than she normally would have and considering the bed was _remarkably_ soft and she was tucked against a very, surprisingly warm Ascian she was more than willing to believe she had probably slept through the worst of it. She felt safe few other places, these days. 

A quiet breath was hissed in through teeth, and the chest her head rested against expanded with it. 

For a moment, she thought he might have been having a nightmare, but then she cracked her eyes open and was met with a view that had her going from contently dozing to red-faced and fully aware of the world around her. A slight, sweet scent of vanilla. The minute way the body she was rested against shifted. A low, breathy chuckle as the arm around her shoulders squeezed. 

The long-fingered hand, usually hidden by a glove as it worked oil up and down the erect, glistening shaft that was beaded with pre that her head was angled to see almost perfectly. 

"Well. Good morning t'you too." A slow stretch shifted her, and she tilted her head up to catch his eye as he licked his lips and smirked. "You could've at least woken me up to watch from the start."

"Best I could manage was to draw it out." The purr that was his voice rumbled through her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. "_I_... Have not stopped thinking about your little _declaration_, and _ohhh_..." 

An utterly pleased grin curled across his face, and she heard his hand shift even as he bit his bottom lip. She swallowed dryly, torn between watching his face and enjoying the rest of the view. Briefly, the Warrior wondered how long he'd been at it, how long he had been keeping himself on the edge, and then discarded that thought as his slightly unfocused, pale gold eyes partially lidded, the softest of sighs escaping him.

She squirmed slightly against him. She couldn't help it.

"Tell me. Say it again. Speak the words, and call me by my _name_." The words were hissed out as he stared at her with a newfound intensity, an almost electric feeling rippling through her before she shifted and pushed herself up out of his grasp to put her head above his. Cupping the side of his face, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lip and then tucked her forehead against his. 

"I have _been_ yours," The Warrior nuzzled his forehead gently, watching as his eyes fully closed. "I _am_ yours," He drew a shuddering breath as she shifted to breath the words into his ear. "and I will always _be_ yours, Hades." The movements of his hand became fitful and jerky the other dragged a handkerchief over himself, adam's apple bobbing. After a moment, his jaw relaxed and he almost lazily tilted his head to blink at her. 

"So, good news bad news time." Her tone was candid as she idly walked her fingers across his bare chest. He quirked a brow at her, before glancing down to see if he had missed any of his efforts, drawing a chuckle from the Warrior. "Nah, you're good in that regards. Problems is, what're you gunna do about _me?_"

The hand with the tissues lifted, curling slightly as they burst into flame and burned away harmlessly, leaving his hand untouched. Rolling slightly, the Ascian levered himself up so that he was above her, grinning down. His voice was an amused coo as he dropped down enough to press a kiss to her nose.

"Oh, _Warrior_, whoever said I was done? I find myself at something of a disadvantage, however, considering _you_ still have too many clothes on."He shifted back to the side, propping himself up on an elbow before gesturing to her with all the air of the Garlean Emperor he had once been.

"Got plans then, have we?" She slowly sat up, watching him and letting a smile play about her face.

"Of course, Hero. Now _strip_."

She saluted, and hopped off the bed to make a show of it.

* * *

Enjoying the way her pleasantly sore muscles ached, the freshly showered Warrior ambled one room over over to where Emet-Selch was humming to himself and cooking something in a frying pan on the burner of a stove. A red and black housecoat, trimmed with the same type of fur as his coat, was draped about his frame and loosely tied with the sash, and she came up behind him with a yawn to wrap her arms around his waist and nuzzle into the plush fabric. It really _was_ as soft as it looked...

"Almost done, my little Monster."

"I have, in my mind, a picture of something I don't know the name of. It's a red fruit-looking thing, and usually full of seeds. What's it called?"

"Pomegranate?" He tilted his head as he flipped the omelet he was working on. She hummed out an affirmative.

"Is that what they're called? I just know you like them. How do you even eat those?"

"Very carefully." She headbutted his shoulder lightly, and he huffed out an amused sound. "What? 'Tis true. The seeds contain quite a bit of juice, which can stain wooden cutting boards, clothes, really anything if you fail to be careful."

"So you eat the seeds?" The Warrior smothered a yawn into his back, before turning her head to rest her cheek against him. 

"You do." The omelet was neatly cut in half and checked, before he was using the spatula to load each of the nearby plates with half. The stove top was turned off, and he scooped up both plates and a pair of forks before leaning slightly to peer at her behind him. "_Do_ be a dear and grab those glasses?"

"Do... You eat them any more?" She released him, stepping aside to grab their drinks and then turning to follow him over to the table. 

"Hmm. T'was _her_ last gift to me. For some time afterwards, I could not look at one without becoming bitterly enraged. After a few centuries, however... After the Sundering, I missed them." Setting both plates down, Emet-Selch sat down in one of the chairs and accepted the drink she offered out to him before she sat down next to him. "Why do you ask? Hoping I might pluck one from the aether for you?"

"Nah. But, I got a question about that. Is it like... Alright, so I've got literally nothing for a frame of reference for how that works, and remember, I'm an _idiot_ so when you explain this, use small words. _But_, Does that work sort of the same way as a Primal? Taking aether and then changing that aether into whatever aether a pomegranate is made out of?"

"Close. The general theory is sound. Everything, absolutely and utterly everything, is made of aether. Your body, my body, this delectable omelet that I will say turned out _remarkably_ well considering I haven't cooked one in an age and a half." He smugly nudged it with his fork, and she nodded enthusiastically as she stuffed more of her own into her mouth. "Our Creation magic is an advanced form of aether manipulation. We take of the ambient aether, weave it into the pattern, structure and form of a naturally grown pomegranate, and thus it _becomes_ one. The difference between the weave that makes your body and the weave that makes the body of a Primal is that yours is constantly maintained and supported by a closed current of your own aether, which essentially loops back into itself so that it might grow whereas Titan's, for example, is a fixed current that must needs be maintained by a constant consumption of external aether."

The Warrior blinked at him, and the Ascian ran back over his words to try and figure out where he had lost her. 

"So..." She started slowly. "The difference between my body, and, say, Titan's left foot, is... That my aether moves and replaces itself, and Titan's doesn't?"

"Very good, little Monster." He leaned over to reward her with a kiss, and she perked up. 

"It helped when I thought about how much I'd ever seen a primal _bleed_. Which is never, 'cept for the case of Odin but he's a different beast altogether."

"_Completely_ unrelated, but a good metaphor nonetheless." He smirked as she gave him an exasperated look. 

"Really? Twelve, Primals are more complicated than I thought. Why don't primals bleed, then?"

"Because, little Monster, who forms a god with the intent for them to do so?" 

* * *

She almost thought Elidibus was wearing one of his vessels again, when a Solus went strolling across the livingroom. A glance at the one she was using as a footrest that was idly reading a book as she tended to one of her knives furrowed her brow, and as she glanced back towards the Former Garlean Emperor who was throwing himself into a pile of pillows with a sigh a third one rounded the corner to enter the room, looking singed. 

"Uhh... Hades?"

"'Tis just me. I recovered all but one of them from the Emissary."

"Ahh. That's... Well, I mean I shouldn't be too surprised, you've got the mental flexibility to use four arms at the same time. Why wouldn't you be able to use six?"

"_Eight_." A void rift had opened, and through it limped another that was rubbing his back with a grimace. "I've four vessels across the source under my control now, three plus one. And Elidibus has one as well. Quite clever, for you to send Zenos off to chase rumours of any sightings of my face."

"Hey, I mean it was either that or get him to start spreading rumours of clones and copies, and I didn't want that to backfire and make things hard for you later." She smiled at him, before looking back down at the knife she was polishing. "So... What happened to that last one? I've never seen you limp like that before."

"Swan dive out of an airship over the Black Shroud. T'was my _intent_ to pull that one through the void to our location but he fought me for it. Naturally, I won our little contest but not before meeting the foliage below." 

"And that one?" She nodded towards the one that was singed, and he glanced over with a pair of eyes that wasn't reading his book. 

"Pulled back from the brink of a volcano. He had intended to dispose of it."

"... I'm gunna have to have some way to tell them apart, otherwise this is going to be horribly confusing. Good news though is that this opens up an _incredible_ sparring opportunity. So if you pulled those two from bad times, where did he hide the first one that came in?"

"The middle of Sagolii, half buried by the sand." 

The Warrior grimaced, leaning to get a better look at him. "Now that you mention it, his nose does look a little red. Sunburned, I'd bet."

"I have _sand_ in places there _ought not be sand_." The sunburned vessel complained from where he was sprawled in the cushions. 

"Okay, _now_ you're just showing off."

All of them glanced at her, and grinned.

"Not yet," admitted the one she was using as a footrest as he put away his book and ran a hand up her leg. "But if you give me some time to heal all of them to their proper healthy states I certainly _can_."

The Warrior blinked, thought about it, thought about the four bodies and the various smirks they were giving her and then went red as her eyes widened. 

"... _Oh_." 

* * *

He watched her as she dozed against his chest, chest and shoulders peppered with bruises, and thought for a moment he might have gone just a _little_ bit overboard. By vessel three she was tired. By the fourth? Utterly _exhausted_, if contently sated. He took turns ambling them over to the shower, and wondered whether it counted as cheating on him with _himself_ and idly dismissed the thought as nonsense. They were all his vessels, controlled by himself and none other. Besides, he was helping her sleep better, and they both enjoyed it. 

One reason, but not the main one. He just wanted to _touch_ her, to make up for the eons of lost time. The hole that had been torn through him immediately before the Sundering had never quite stopped _bleeding_, and she was both a balm and a stopper in one. And she lived so... so _quickly_, that he was scrambling, trying to catch up half the time and improvising along the way to cover for that fact. As much as he enjoyed the physical coupling, it was scarcely scratching the surface of the itch he had for intimacy. She simply wasn't _whole_ enough to withstand the raw feeling of two souls brushing against one another. He didn't want to hurt her, but sometimes...

Sometimes, the Ascian just wanted to try it, just the once, just a little bit to see if she flinched. To see if she could even feel it, numb and blind to her own soul as she was. To _drown_ himself within her essence and aether like a man dying of thirst might when confronted with an oasis. He didn't care how sick it might make him.

_Ohhh_, but he was letting his tightly controlled _need_ wiggle free. She wasn't ready for that, not by a long shot, and he firmly tamped down on the urge even as he distracted himself by studying the lightwarden essence within her. Slowly, her body had begun the process of converting it into her own, personal aether and absorbing it properly. It would take her potentially decades to do so at her current rate. Barely any time at all for him, but for her... That was a good chunk of her remaining time. What to do, what to do...

She grunted quietly, face screwing up, and he briefly wondered if his musings had drawn her attention until he realized that, no, she was still asleep. Bafflement and slowly growing horror was starting to suffuse her aether, and he watched as the thick-knuckled hand that had been splayed across his chest was curling into a fist. A nightmare, he surmised, and gently jostled her. 

"NNN-! Hnng..." Snapping her eyes open, the Warrior had gone utterly still before wheezing and feeling at his chest as if she was making sure it was structurally sound. On finding his chest whole and undamaged, she relaxed and draped a hand over her face, grumbling incoherently. 

"Well, I always _did_ hope that you might dream of me, but 'tis not the way I meant. An Echo?"

"Mn. Amaurot. We fought. You got white auracited and then I blew a bloody big glowing hole in your chest. You died, asking me to remember that you guys had lived, and then broke into pieces." She lowered her hand and reached to drape it across his stomach, voice hoarse. "Twelve, that was... I would've... Everyone was celebrating, and all I could think of was what I'd just done."

"-Please-, I can _assur__e_ you that white auracite is incapable of containing me unless you manage to get a chunk the size of a _person_. The arm-length piece you used to steal away my tempering would never have been enough-"

"Thancred _broke_ it, and the shards went all over you and then _grew_. You broke some of them, but the really big shard that everyone was focused on making bigger and stronger was right in your mask and you were fighting it, and then I used the Lightwarden essence within me to counter your darkness and-... Twelve, it was just... _Horrible_." She curled against him, legs tangling with his as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "It was like I was watching a play and couldn't _do_ anything to stop it. I watched myself from the outside."

He huffed, sounding almost offended, and tucked two fingers under her chin to tilt her head up and meet his gentle kiss with her lips. "'Tis just a nightmare, my little Monster. Nothing to torture yourself over. You yourself verified the utter lack of a hole in my chest. Go back to sleep."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

"Naturally, hale and robust as I ever am." He brushed another kiss against her forehead and let her curl against his side once more. It wasn't long at all before she was drifting off, and he finally let the ugly feeling of unease show on his face. It would have worked, the method she mentioned if she had any ability to use aether, but her words...

_Remember... That we lived._

He had _never_ told anyone, about the faint whisper of her aether as Hydaelyn had surged upwards into the sky. How much of that, exactly, had she remembered? They had flirted with the topic, mentioned it piecemeal to verify one part or another, but never outright gone over it. Her words hit a little too close to home on that front. Still, it was only a nightmare. She hadn't gotten carried off to the Mothercrystal, it hadn't been an Echo, it was just... 

A bad dream. 

Emet-Selch idly stroked his fingers through her hair, trying to put the thought out of his mind.

* * *

When he had asked her where she wanted to go, he hadn't expected her to say the Waking Sands. Still, he obliged her and ambled along after her as she wandered through the sparsely populated halls. Most of the stuff there was Urianger's, and it was staffed by a skeleton crew of three that waved idly at the Warrior and then went back to work while ignoring his presence completely. 

"'Tis truly a temptation to drift along and see whether or not they even notice the absence of my feet upon the ground." 

"Hah! Now where were they..." She hung a left at the end of the hall, making her way down the ramp and into the wide room so that she could start searching through boxes. 

"I may be able to assist, you know, if you but told me what you are looking for." Folding his arms, Emet-Selch quirked a brow when she paused and grimaced.

"Problem. I don't rightly know what it's -called-. It's an aether-thingy that looks like some really clunky, fucked up goggles. From what I can tell, it helps folks see aether. I'm gunna need them, if I'm gunna practice this, and I'm probably gunna need a few pairs 'cause they're _going_ to break." The Warrior ambled over to another box, popping it open and rooting through the contents with a grumble. "We had, I dunno, Six sets? Seven? Y'shtola didn't need hers any more after the first time she used, flow, and I dunno what the others did with theirs, but I'm _sure_ we had some spares around here somewhere..."

The Ascian's brows furrowed, and he hummed as he let his senses drift outwards. If it allowed one to see the world with the equivalent of an aethric sight, it would have to have crystals as a component, and aether crystals never _really_ lost their power unless drained utterly dry... Aha. Meandering along, he hauled a box out of the way and reached for the one behind it, sighing as he noted the lock. 

"I believe I have it, little Monster-"

"Priscilla!"

The Warrior's head came up, and her nose wrinkled as if some smell had offended her. Emet-Selch mouthed the name to himself, drawing the meaning, and clapped a hand over his mouth as the irony made itself apparent. 

"Jacke, it's been an age. How're the Dutiful Sisters?" She turned to face the bandanna wearing knave that sashayed up to her and clapped her on the shoulders. 

"Right lovely an' pure, as always! What're we snilchin'?"

"Somethin' that'll help with my dimber damberin'. Gotta get my stabbers aligned so's to mill a bleedin' _immortal_ but only in ways t'shave 'im."

"Ohh, and yer roockin' it out've the Sands?" The hyur grinned, though the expression faded as he caught sight of the Ascian, lurking in the corner. "Who's the cove? Sod it all, what's a _Garlean_ doin' here?"

"Filching." Emet-Selch answered, producing the aetheric headpiece with a flourish. The Warrior perked up and ambled over to inspect it, grinning. 

"'Eyy, this is exactly it. Now I just need-"

"You better 'ave a wattle-full fer me, Lass."

"Easy, Jacke." She raised a hand towards their company, and then jerked a thumb back towards the Ascian. "This one's _mine_. Keep those stabbers snug in their dry-docks, 'lest I have to acquaint you with the bottom've my _boot_."

He seemed to think over her words, before holding his hands away from the blades at his hips. 

"Benar. Let's gib the gab then, but Twelve I'm _starved_. Cloy me a sandwich and dance on the roof?" She gave him a hopeful expression, and Jacke heaved a sigh and ambled off, waving as he went. As he turned the corner, she glanced back at Emet-Selch and smiled sheepishly. "So... Can I get, I dunno, a bell with you not immediately visible? I don't care if you eavesdrop, but..."

"-Please-, as if you could _stop_ me." He smirked, eyes dancing with amusement. "I had _thought_ that the manner with which you spoke was simply lazy, but now I understand that 'tis far, far worse than I could have imagined. I look forward to puzzling out a translation. _Priscilla._"

The Warrior cringed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Priscilla, a name for girls. Meaning: Ancient, Venerable  
Warrior: young consciousness, Old soul, young body  
Emet-Selch: Ancient consciousness, old soul, cloned body -of an old man-


	29. Slowww dowwwn

"Cloy?"

"Steal."

"Code?"

"Don't steal from Limsa Lominsa or the Admiral. Those that do, get stabbed. Also try not to do anything unethical in Lominsan territory, otherwise you will also get stabbed."

"Unethical? Rather large word for you." Emet-Selch smirked up at the sky above, stretched out on his back with his head pillowed on her lap. He had joined her on the roof when her friend had left, and promptly made himself comfortable.

"Asshat." She shot him a fond, tolerant glare before watching Jacke slink off across an alley. "What's next."

"Quarron?"

"Ass."

He narrowed his eyes at her with that one, and she raised her hands even as she swung her legs where they dangled over the edge of the roof. "What. That's what it means."

"Culls?"

"Hmm." She looked thoughtful at that. "It doesn't translate well. Generally means 'person' though."

"Cove?"

"Context. Anything from friend to buddy to someone in the same line of work."

"Rum tale, I would presume, is a tale told while drinking to pass the time and 'tis thusly not meant to be taken seriously?" Pale gold eyes wandered to her face, and he let a proper smile cross his face at the thoughtful look she held.

"Half points. Could be gossip, too."

"Wattle?"

"Ear." She answered promptly, reaching to flick one of his lightly. 

"Were you aware Bene is a Sharlayan term?"

"Nah. Seems about right though."

"Bitten?" The Ascian rubbed at his ear, letting his eyes close.

"Stolen."

"Yaffle?"

"Convince someone to give you for free."

"Gib?"

"Gib the gab. Chit chat. Idly gossip."

"Cry cockles."

"Admit to whatever you're being accused of."

"_Interesting..._" Opening his eyes once more, Emet-Selch peered up at her and then to the moon. "... Did you know, that such was where Zodiark's coporeal form resides?"

"Eh?" The Warrior blinked down at him, and then looked up as he lifted one hand to point skyward. "Wait, the moon? Seriously?"

"'Tis why it was found fitting that Bahamut should be contained within Dalamud."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"You and everyone _else_." The Ascian muttered, practically pouting. 

"You keep pouting, and your face is gunna get stuck like that." She tapped his nose, teasingly and he tipped his head up to cheekily catch her finger between his teeth. She laughed, and thumbed along his bottom lip as he let go. "Still, Calamity is as a Calamity does. A lot've people died in that."

"They'll be reborn _eventually_." He looked away, frowning and she rolled her eyes before starting to run her fingers through his hair. 

"Yeah, but just like I get back up that shit's still _unpleasant_. Which, I gotta ask you... Are... You still planning the Ardor by way of genocide? You've got seven counts've it under your belt. I was... Sorta hoping that you were a hundred percent with me when it comes to finding other ways." 

He was silent for a long moment. She let it linger, knowing that it might draw out an answer better than anything else she might be able to say. At length, he began to speak, and when he did it was in a tone that spoke of utter exhaustion.

"... On... _every_ shard, there has always been someone who rose up to try and stop us. Every. Single. Time. There was always a _hero_. Seven times. _Seven_ different people. Can you guess what they all had in common?" He turned his face towards her once more, staring at her sadly, smiling humourlessly as she cringed and looked guilty. "That's right, Warrior. They were all shards of _you._ Reflections of _her_. The others never could understand why I largely avoided the other shards. I contented myself with the Source because there were other Ascians here who could keep you occupied. Oh, _naturally_ I was obligated to go elsewhere from time to time, such as my work on the First, but mostly..."

"Mostly, I watched." Emet-Selch heaved a sigh, folding his hands on his chest as he continued. "Every. Single. Time. You were reborn, over the countless generations, specifically to be a meddler. Your childhood was never particularly _soft_. You were groomed by nature to survive, to fight, and to improvise. There were only a dozen or so times that I ever directly interacted with you. How could I not? Over the countless ages, since time immemorial, you were _mine_, yet should I have approached you there would have been little I could do to convince you of this thing. So oft times I took to the wings, a player of a bit-part in one life or another. Companion adjacent. I would have very likely heeded the others and stopped, after the first few times, but do you know what kept the cruel flame of hope burning within my breast?"

"Dedication bordering on obsession?" She leaned back as he idly swatted at her, missing by a mile and turning the gesture into a finger pointed skyward. 

"You never, _ever_, married, in any of your lives save for one. Certainly, many tried to woo and then wed you, and naturally, you sought out the carnal pleasures of the flesh, but it never seemed to sit right with you until your previous reincarnation."

She blinked, quirking a brow and staring at his finger before dropping her gaze to his face where a smug, victorious smirk had settled. "Wait, you don't mean to tell me... I was an _Empress_ my last life?"

"By technicality, no. You were not born Garlean, and so I could not elevate you to that status." At his confirmation, the Warrior's face scrunched up in disgust, and he couldn't help but snicker.

"Oh _ew_, that means..."

"That means," He teased her, grinning widely, "that my great-grandson inherited his malm-wide streak of _insanity_ where combat is concerned from _you_. I would even go so far as to bet gil that you are not, in fact, barren but that our bond from Amaurot simply prevents you from making any happy little 'accidents' with anyone else."

"You say 'bond' like marriage meant something else back then." She squinted at him, repressing the information about Zenos, and he quirked a brow up at her. 

"... Weeellllll... I suppose I have told you this much." Pushing himself up, he turned so that he could sit next to her and dangle his legs off the edge of the roof much the same as she was, taking her hand between his own as he did to press it against his coat, over his heart. "Listen well, little Monster. I will only tell you this the _once_."

"When an Amaurotine citizen marries, it is more than a melding two lives and lifestyles." He watched her as she glanced at where he had placed her hand and then blinked grey-blue eyes up to his own, listening curiously. He paused for a moment, before smiling softly and giving her hand a gentle squeeze with his own that still covered it. "We lived, for all intents and purposes, until we did not _want_ to. Our souls, robust as they are, were largely immune to the passing of time and thus was transferred to whatever shape we wished to take. You may have noticed that many of the shades within Amaurot did not vary much. 'Tis because we did not identify ourselves by our containers, but by our very souls. You would be, in a word, _blind_ by our standards. What we looked like, physically, simply _did not matter_, and thus only the very unusual individuals ever looked different." 

"The title of Emet-Selch, the Ascian robes you have seen me wear, all Convocation members were marked as unique by these things, as an example, yet we still looked otherwise identical to others of our kind should you look at us side by side with naught but a pair of eyes." Reaching up, he snapped the fingers of his free hand and pulled his mask out of thin air, holding it so that she could see it. "The soul, was what was important. And your concept of marriage is a paltry, pale thing by comparison. Our word for 'divorce' is tied to our word for 'death', because to sever such a bond is to leave the soul with a gaping wound. When we married, our souls did more than touch, as what might be expected from close friends seeking to get the attention of another. They _bonded_. They drifted partly into one another, with such a sensation of _euphoria_ that I could do no justice to it with words and then parted, each permanently marked by the essence of the other. 'T'was an utterly intimate mixing of what makes you _you_ and me _me_."

"That... Sounds an awful lot like tempering." She was frowning faintly, grimacing. "That might be how that started to come about, I think. Which is... Really saddening, that something so sweet could be turned into something so... Horrible."

"'Tis similar, but lacks the ability to utterly destroy the mind of the other. Tempering is an obsession, driven by a demand for more and fueled by an inequality in power. There was never such a thing between bonded couples in Amaurot." Emet-Selch pulled her hand from his chest so that he could weave his fingers between hers. "You _knew_. Some part of you held true to that bond, and refused to marry any but the one you already _had_, my little Monster. And for all that I was miserably alone, for all that the countless ages passed with painful, agonizing slowness, for all the tempering in the Star and the hold Zodiark held over me... Such a thing gave me the barest, faintest flicker of _hope_, that while you may not have remembered, you might one day should you be rejoined enough times."

Laughing lightly, the Ascian waved his free had. "But I am getting away from the _point_ of all of this. I am... Hesitant, to take part in any attempts to kill any shard of yourself. While yes, you only stand to gain from the Ardor, to become whole... You will inevitably also be the one to rise up and attempt to prevent such a thing from happening."

* * *

"So what happened, if I can ask? I must've died _somehow_, and I'm roughly thirty-ish. My sense've time's a little wonkey, but you would've been still 'alive' when I was, I dunno, I guess reborn's the word I'm looking for."

They were both laying along the roof now, each of them having slipped back so watch the stars hand in hand. She tilted her head to study him, and blinked as he looked almost sad for a moment in the dim light.

"You died bringing our son into the world. Hydaelyn's _blessing_ protested it. I had suppressed it for as long as I could, but I was kept away from you during that moment. Elidibus and Lahabrea, you see, had finally figured out who you _really_ were."

_("A true brother would _ **_stop trying to murder her reincarnation_.**_")_

"They long considered you a point of weakness for me, and I will admit they may not have been far from the mark. They tried to talk what they considered 'sense' into me, and by the time I had returned... You were gone."

"You... Can suppress the blessing?" She sat up slightly, and he huffed out a soft laugh.

"-Please-, I _am_ the Architect. If I cannot do a thing, I can _build_ something to suit my purpose. 'Tis difficult. I could not do it in battle, but it is not entirely impossible. _My_ immortality is not the only type that can be defeated, please be aware. Midgardsormr is not the only being with this ability, simply the best." He squeezed her hand gently. "... I certainly wouldn't wish to do so while you were in combat, either, although your current incarnation is the only one to display this strain of Echo."

"Alright, now I'm curious. What did my Echo do?" The Warrior laid back once more, squeezing his hand in return. 

"You could hear things. Put you in the garden, and you would complain of the noise. You hated it, and far preferred the hustle and bustle of a magitek shop. You claimed to have hated _birds, _though you always kept one or two in the garden. I used to ask you what they said, and every _single_ time you chose to lie to me. I never did find out what the truth was. I never pressed. T'was this that drove me to discern methods with which to subdue your blessing. You seemed... Happier, once I had figured out how."

"Huh..." She stared at the sky, watching as a cloud drifted over the moon. "Did... You ever cross paths with me in this life before?" 

"Hmm? No. After my 'retirement' as Solus, I sought slumber. I had not expected you to return so quickly, and t'was only the insistence of Elidibus that dragged me from it. He said he had found you." The Ascian's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "I very nearly told him he could take the information and stick it into one of his own less-than-polite orifices, expecting you to have been naught but a babe, yet here you are. Knowing that I had missed your rebirth put me in something of an admittedly foul mood." 

"I can bet." She tugged his hand towards her mouth so that she could press a kiss against his knuckles. "But enough of this. You're getting sappy and broody, and I've got a broken shingle digging into my rump. We've got two of those clunky goggles, and I wanna try something. Come with me?"

Emet-Selch smiled softly, nodding, and she pulled him up with her to lead him along the rooftops.

* * *

"Alright, so... I think I've got this figured out." Adjusting the surprisingly heavy goggles, she felt blindly along them for the switch and jerked slightly as they shifted on her face. "... I can't see a damn thing. Wait- Nope. Still nothing. Think they might be broken?"

"Oh for the love of... Stand still." The Ascian heaved a sigh and ambled over, reaching out to adjust the goggles and then trace his fingers across the ridiculous headpiece. A focused look flickered across his face as it rapidly calibrated, internal components shifting and clicking before she gasped. 

"Oh woah! That's a hell've a thing." She leaned back slightly to peer at him, head tilting this way and that as he stepped back and folded his arms, amused.

"Each one was calibrated for a certain person, little Monster. To calibrate them by hand is beyond your level of skill."

"I mean, yeah. Everything I learned on aetherology is what sunk in while I dozed through Urianger and Y'shtola's lectures. _Fortunately_ for me, though, I've got you. And _Dayum_, do you look just... Gorgeous." She was smiling, a silly little happy expression as she studied him through the goggles, whistling as he dramatically lifted his hands and strutted around. He ended it with a sweeping bow, and she snickered moving slowly to mimic the movement. "You're just... All a-swirl with purple and gold. The gold motes've gotten bigger, and I think your colour lightened a bit. Less plum, more, uhh... Amethyst? Night-time amethyst? That make sense? You look, I dunno. More _right_."

"Crude as these instruments are, they certainly have their uses." Straightening as he mused over her words, the Ascian ambled over to pick up the other set and turn it over in his hands. "Although, I must admit I am _surprised_ that you remember enough of what I look like to make any distinctions between then and now. What did you eat for breakfast this morning?"

"Asshat. I stared at you for at -least- ten whole minutes, panicking all the while. I couldn't forget that if I _tried_. Wow..." She stepped to the side, head tilting as she continued to study him. "They're kinda hard to see, but... those're _patterns_, aren't they." 

"Well, 'tis only to be _expected_. I am trying so very hard to be happy after all." He smirked as she ambled closer and reached out, recoiling slightly as she found his chest instead of the gently swirling patterns she was staring at. "You have absolutely _zero_ depth perception, it seems."

"That's not entirely true... Wow, my arm's really _blue_. Not as vibrant as you, but..." She held up her hand, turning it this way and that before leaning forward to stare at the chunk of his crystallized essence. "... So how would I give you one've these? A bit of me. Do I just... Hack off a _finger_ and hope it regrows, or-?"

"If you should so choose to mutilate yourself, I would be _obligated_ to stop you. You're going to need all of your fingers, and your soul is in shambles as it is." Tisking, Emet-Selch reached out to cup his hands around hers, hoarding it against his chest. 

"I mean, doesn't that just mean that it's the _best_ time to shear off a bit? I need to practice, if I'm gunna figure out how to cut the tempering out of Elidibus, after all. And it's not like I'm not gunna survive it, if I'm already in pieces it should be easy to take off a little bit." 

"Sweet, merciful Zodiark, grant me the patience to deal with this little _monster_..." Exasperated, the Ascian reached out to pull her against his chest, wrapping his arms around the Warrior to secure her there. "Do you even _know_ what it is that you so callously speak of? This is your _soul_, the very fabric and essence of your very _self_. You cannot simply _practice_ shearing bits and pieces off as if you were some... Some _fruit_ that you were learning how to peel and section out. Even the slightest mistake could be _ruinous_."

"Yeah, I mean I _get_ that, but what else am I gunna do? Practice on _you?_" Her arms came around him, and she sighed even as she rested what she could of her cheek against his chest. "It scares the shit out've me, thinking that I might _miss_. But I want to stop the mass killing, stop all the needless loss've life. If I can get rid of his tempering, then I can at least _talk_ to him. Elidibus isn't an idiot, just like you weren't. So to make sure I don't screw him over, kill him or worse, I -need- to be able to practice. If I did it to you, I can do it to others. I can _free_ them."

"You don't even know how you did it to _me_." He huffed, resting his chin atop her hair. 

"Do _too_. I cut the stuff that didn't belong out like a tumor while I could see it. And yeah, I normally can't, but that's what the goggles are for. I can see aether using them." She stubbornly tightened her arms around him, drawing a resigned sigh from the Ascian. 

"_Do_ you now. However did you manage to cut my soul and leave my physical vessel unharmed, then. Go on. I'll wait." She tensed in his arms, and he could see the way she was sullenly trying to figure it out by the tight, coiled spiral her soul had pulled into. "See? You don't _know_. You already attempted to fish for an answer when you asked whether you should lop off a finger."

"... Alright, so there's a _few_ things I gotta work out. But between us, we'll find a way. You and me. And the other Scions." She peered at his face, staring at him through the goggles. "... You'll help with this, won't you? Your glittery bits have gone all still and close together like a spring turning the other way. I don't _like_ it."

"I make no promises in this regard, little Monster. Not yet. You are...Moving a little quickly, for my tastes. Less than a week ago, we were slaying Primals. _Now?_ You speak of mutilating yourself all for the sake of practice to free the remnants of Zodiark's followers from their tempering. And less than a month ago, you were _throwing_ yourself into the war effort against Garlemald." Emet-Selch grumbled, practically pouting as she reached up to pull the clunky goggles free and blinked up at him. 

"Yeah, and before that was the mad dash across Norvrandt, hunting down Lightwardens. It's the pace I've always moved at, 'cause why let people suffer longer than I gotta? But, I do sorta see your point. If I had a gil for every time someone asked me how I wasn't burnt out yet, I'd be rich." She smiled slightly, shifting onto the balls of her feet and reaching up to tug lightly on his hair and get him to meet her half-way for a kiss. "Tell you what. I'll not mention anything about this for at _least_ two days. Which, is gunna be _really_ hard for me. It might seem like no time at all for you, but this topic's gunna worry at me like a dog with a bone. In the meantime, we'll head back to the Rising Stones or wherever you want to go to relax, and do just that. Relax. Read some books, I'll horribly burn a half a dozen omelets trying to figure out how to cook them, and we'll just... Chill."

"... Fine, but considering the lack of security at the Rising Stones, we shall retreat to my house in Garlemald instead."

She smiled, and the Ascian lifted one hand to snap his fingers, sending them drifting through the aether to their destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I love all your comments! I'm glad people liked the 100 kudos bookmark, because we're coming up on another milestone in that regard!


	30. Not the dance partner she was looking for

"Should I bother to ask as to why you've taken to sharpening your swords against the trunk of a tree that has done absolutely nothing wrong?"

Bulky aetheric contraption over her eyes, the Warrior froze before sheepishly glancing back at where Emet-Selch was watching her, a cup of something that steamed in the cold air in hand and bundled up in another of his plush, fur-trimmed housecoats. She mulled it over, before pushing the goggles up, stepping guiltily away and sheathing the blades one at a time. 

"I'd recommend against it, really. Whatcha got?"

"Hot chocolate." He closed the distance between them, offering it out so that she could lean slightly and take a sip as he held it for her. "And I don't mean that _powdered_ nonsense either."

"Mm~, tasty. Did you make this for me?" Reaching up, she accepted the cup from him so that she could take another sip, perking up as she found it just as tasty the second time. 

"-Please-, I made it for myself. I have simply deigned to allow you to drink from my cup."

"All hail." She waggled her eyebrows at him, drinking another mouthful and then offering it back with a grin. "The mighty Founding Father, sharing his gifts with the lessers."

Pale gold eyes rolled as he took his cup back, eyeing the tree and then eyeing her. She tried to look innocent, and ambled around him to head towards the house. "Thirty eight hours, and only _now_ have you cracked enough to try and put theory into practice."

"I promised I wouldn't talk about it, not that I wouldn't think about it or try things out." The Warrior glanced back as she reached the side of the building and the path that circled it, quirking a brow. Huffing, the Ascian ambled along to follow her as she continued along. 

"Now, I am _fairly_ certain that I hid both of the aetherical contraptions specifically to hinder your ability to do so. To which, I must inquire, how _exactly_ did you find one of them?" He started to drift mid-step, disliking how the cold of the path was seeping through his slippers, gliding along to draw level with her. 

"I dunno. I just... Wandered around while you were in your workshop." She tucked the awkward goggles away into a pouch, reaching up to tuck her hands behind her head and yawn idly. "Ahn then... Uhh... I just sorta found'it. I wasn't _looking_ for them. But there was a glowy ball floating over a box and-"

"Little Monster, _please_ tell me that you didn't accidentally _kill_ yourself with the lightning orb that I specifically put over it to _prevent_ you from going into the box." He turned slightly in mid-air, staring her down and feeling his eye twitch as she had the grace to look sheepish.

"I mean, I don't _think_I did. Pretty sure I just blacked out, and when I woke up some've the stuff had been knocked over and my hand's _still_ numb, but it still works, and... Ahh..." She wilted under the way his stare evolved into a withering glare, cringing slightly as pale gold eyes narrowed. She dropped her eyes, poking he fingers together and biting her lower lip. 

"Oh _no_, don't think you get to worm your way out of this by acting _cute_. I am going to have to start finding ways to punish you as befitting your _childish_ nature." The cup was set to glide along with him as he folded his arms, lips curling into something of a snarl. "I _told_ you not to touch them, lightning orbs are terribly finicky and an utter hassle to recharge." 

"Sooo you're less worried about me finding the mask and more upset that you've got to charge a lightning orb?" It was the wrong thing to say, and she could see it in how he drifted around to float in front of her and jab a finger out towards her.

"'Tis not the _point_, little Monster. You cannot leave well enough alone for even _two measly days_."

"I was_ bored_!" Her shoulders slumped, arms dangling as she complained. "You've been locked away in your workshop ever since we got here! I ran out've eggs to burn! All your books are too smart for me! 

"Perhaps I should get you some with _pictures_ then." The Ascian muttered, reaching to collect the floating mug and take a sip.

"I've climbed _everything! _Twice! I swapped your weather vanes and then swapped them back! I rearranged all of the books in the living room so that they're by the colour order of the rainbow! You can't leave me alone in a place like this without anything to _do!_"

"_Stop_, just... Stop." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Emet-Selch wasn't sure he had ever felt as _old_ as he did in that moment. "Perhaps, in my haste to find space to work in peace, I neglected to factor in your incredibly _short_ attention span when it comes to things such as relaxation. Rest assured, 'tis not a mistake I shall make again. _However_, if you promise to refrain from any theorycrafting or practical application practice, as well as to avoid touching anything _else_ I have told you to leave alone, I will tell you precisely _what_ I have been working on."

"I'm gunna need something engaging to do if I want any chance of actually being able to keep that promise."

"I will accept this compromise, and shall provide." He held out his hand, and she curiously inspected it before nodding and reaching out to shake it with her own. 

"Alright, I promise."

Releasing her hand, he lifted his own and snapped his fingers. A quiet, '_wark?_' sounded from behind her, and the Warrior's eyes lit up. She _knew_ that sound!

"Kweh!" Spinning, she spread her arms as her dark blue chocobo padded over and butted his head against her own, chirping and flapping his wings. "Man, I'm not even gunna _ask_ how you knew where my favourite Racer was!"

_("Every test we have run has proven that it is simply **impossible** for such a creature to fly!" _

_He had been passing through the agricultural district, evicted from his office by Hythlodaeus on the grounds of being a 'shut in'. Catching the whispers, learning that the Eschaton was holding a demonstration, he slipped into the gathered crowd and worked his way to the front. He spent a long time blinking at the avian that was hovering ten feet above the ground, chirping and nipping at the greens that **she** was dangling just in front of it's beak. Those tiny wings hammered, and it got another beakful before dropping to the ground to chow down on it's prize as she stepped off the treebranch and hooked an arm around the vines that dangled, slowly twirling before she touched down and wrapped her arms around the bundle of feathers gleefully.. _

_"It defies all known laws of aviation! How did you make it possible? It wasn't utilizing any aether for any extra lift!"_

_"Come on, do you really think he cares about laws or aether?" She twisted around, peering at the speaker and laughing easily. "He flies because he believes he can, that's all."_

_Conversation broke out among those gathered, and he melted back into the crowd to shadow her from an appropriate distance as she led the modified axebeak into the stables. _

_"You coming in or not?" Her voice rang out from within the stables. Of -course- she had known he was there. She always seemed to. "I'm not going to leave the door open for you forever, you know.")_

"-and then we cut a hard left, 'cause the white one was hot on our tailfeathers, _wasn't she_, ohh, but she just wasn't -fast- enough, and couldn't get the traction. She slipped and slid even as we just sailed along the inside of the corner! Oh man, what a close race!" The Warrior continued gushing about one of her races, scratching through the puffed out feathers along the chocobo's cheeks. "Lookit your fluffenchops! I remember, you kept trying to _display_ for her, and then you sulked for _ages_ until I finally convinced her rider to breed the two've you. You were as proud as a prince when that brood hatched!"

"As _engaging_ as this is, I did promise to tell you what, exactly I was working on. I would like to get back to it before your attention span shortens further." Dryly, the Ascian folded his arms and watched as she guiltily looked back at him and folded her hands behind her back, looking attentive. "Paying attention? Good. Your current mask covers your mouth, thus making it difficult to force feed you potions or ethers as may be necessary. I am making you a new one."

"Hades, that's..." She stared at him, jaw hanging somewhat slack before skipping along and throwing her arms around his waist with a grin. "You're making me a _mask!_ Do I get to see what it looks like?"

"Not until it's _done_, you little Monster." Holding the hot chocolate off to the side so that none of it was accidentally spilled on her, he leaned down and idly nuzzled his forehead against hers. "I will admit, however, that it shall have a handful of _features_that you may find useful in the future. Now then, run along with your overgrown chicken. I have _work_ to do, and I do need to concentrate."

"Oh man, I'm gunna set up a _course_ and then Kweh's gunna race it and it'll be _great!_" She bound away, arms out for the chocobo that braced and leaned down so that she could clamber up and then ride off. 

He watched her go, amused, baffled and shaking his head even as he turned and drifted back towards the doors to the house.

* * *

It was finally done. All that was left was for her to try it on. He was hesitant to leave his workshop, considering her words before he had disappeared back into it had been plans to turn likely the entirety of his yard into a race track. Still, it wasn't as if anything she did would be _permanent_, and so he climbed the stairs and tried not to wince at the footsteps that rattled across the roof and then the muffled thump of something hitting the ground outside. Pushing the door open, he peered out in time to see her sprinting past with the chocobo in hot pursuit. 

She cornered decidedly better than he did, as evidenced by how she hung a sharp right and disappeared behind a tree, reemerging around it to come charging back from the other side while 'Kweh' was still skidding and sliding, feet going out from under the beast before he tipped over a low hedge and went tumbling. He was right back up and charging, warking and whistling cheerfully once he had sorted himself out and apologetically nudged the bent shrub upright. 

She spotted him, ambled breathlessly over and lobbed the stick she had been tearing around with up so that the chocobo could leap and snap it up, tossing it a few times and settling down to chew on it like some sort of large, beaked dog. 

"Well, if I ever had any questions as to the source of your unnatural speed, 'tis plain to see it was simply an evolved trait to survive your own foolishness."

"What, we're playing _tag_. It's good exercise!" She beamed at him, and the chocobo wark'ed around the beakful of treebranch he was sawing through in agreement. 

"Yes, yes, little Monster, whatever you _say_." Emet-Selch rolled his eyes, before snapping his fingers in front of her face to make sure he had her attention. She went almost cross-eyed as she stared at his fingers. "Now. Close your eyes, and don't move."

She blinked, before shrugging slightly and closing her eyes. Though they shifted beneath their lids, she did a passable job of remaining still and keeping them shut as he tucked the mask against the upper half of her face and traced his fingers along the flanges that ran down her cheeks. Stepping back, he studied it and nodded, smiling sadly at the bittersweet ache in his chest. 

"There. Now then. You may open your eyes and move as you please." 

"This..." Hands lifting, she traced her fingers over the red-edged, black material before a frown tightened the skin about her eyes and pulled at her lips. Cracking her eyes open, she stared at him in wonderment. "Oh, _Hades_, you didn't... You did, didn't you. I don't even have to _look_ at it to know it's-"

"To remove it, press the temples and pull gently. For reapplication, 'tis the reverse." His voice was rough with emotion as he stepped forward, adjusting the collar of her coat and her scarf, inspecting the way the mask sat against her face. It was good work, he thought to himself. Durable. It would weather almost anything. "And should you trace a finger from where a Garlean third eye would rest down 'twixt your own two, you shall find it will serve you far better than those clunky, Zodiark-awful contraptions the Scions were using. It will also help to preserve you should you find yourself within an airless void, but there is a limit to how long. And before you give breath to the words, 'tis different."

"Because it's not all _red_?"

"'Tis still a _difference_." The Ascian huffed, before blinking as she stepped in and wrapped her arms around him. 

"I love you, _Twelve_ do I love you, but I wish you wouldn't stab yourself in the heart like this. I'm half tempted to reject it on the grounds that it'll make you sad every time you see me wear it. What'll Elidibus and the Ascians think?"

"They can think what they like. T'was my choice to fashion it thus. I would see it on no face but your own."

"But-" He cut her off by grabbing her chin and baring his teeth in a humourless, bitter smile.

"Hydaelyn and Zodiark be _damned_. You are my _wife_, holder of the title of Eschaton, Bringer of the End _regardless_ of the cracked state of your soul. 'Tis about time they, and -you-, _remembered_ that, and should you require irrefutable _proof_ of this thing, one need only look at all the meddling you tend towards. How many primals have you been the end of? How many people have you killed, that the weight of their remembrance bows your shoulders? Each and every one, carefully weighed and measured and found _necessary_. Long have the others sought to lift up those they rediscovered back to their original stations. I will _not_ have them give such a thing to someone who would simply kill indiscriminately in the name of a gluttonous _god_."

* * *

The swordsman wasn't bothered by the fact that he had to walk the last two dozen malms before he made it to civilization. No, what he was bothered by was the fact that set into the mountains he had scaled by foot, there was a surprisingly large two-story building with a high, walled yard that he had almost found himself thoughtlessly walking _around_. It was only because of the Resonant that he had caught himself, and even then the prickling along the back of his neck and brief sense of _wrong_ that had tingled across his sensibilities had almost been dismissed outright until he realized he was ambling placidly along beside a twenty fulm tall _wall _instead of the side of the side of the cliff he had thought it was in the first place. 

Even then, he hadn't -cared- until he had heard breathless laughter. Not just any breathless laughter, but _hers_. The joyous sounds of his _prey_. 

His friend.

And so, he had carefully navigated what could have been a series of bad endings and finally made his way up the wall to stare wide-eyed at what he beheld. The rasp of metal against metal, sword meeting shield, the crunch of gravel as people vied for the upper hand. He watched them _dance_, and felt his breath catch in his throat. 

His great-grandfather, kit with Garlean armor, a sword and a shield. He looked much the same as he had before, save that he wasn't wearing his mask. A pleased little grin played about his mouth as he jabbed forward with the sword, attack swept aside as _she_ hammered one of her curved blades across the side of it and stepped in to the no longer threatened space to rake the other blade across the shield that dragged up and over the locked, extended arm just in time to catch it. Both blades were heaved high so that Solus could lean back and try to apply his boot to the Warrior, connecting solidly. 

"Oh come now, little Monster, surely the difference in sight cannot be _that_ disorienting." The Garlean rapped his sword against his shield, settling once more into a defensive stance. 

"Asshat! Everything looks _weird_, and we've been at this for less than an hour! At least I'm starting to pick out your sword." She grinned, the expression full of easy glee from under the mask she wore. It was a curious thing, held in place by no discernible means, some manner of cloth or like material over the eyes that made them disappear into the darkness of the rest of the piece. Two flanges ran down from under the eyes, curving back towards the corners of her jaw where they rested under her eyes. She was otherwise dressed as she always had been, fingerless leather gloves backed by metal, a leather coat with the sleeves rolled up, boots almost to the knees that capped her toes and heels with metal and pants with those ridiculous cargo pockets on the sides. Two belts, one for the wicked black blades she carried and another for pouches and flasks. The scarf was new, though.

"Yes, well I _am_ pouring a great deal of aether into it. Truly, to anyone with a _shred_ of aether-sensing capabilities, t'would veritably _glow_." Flourishing the sword, he dropped the shield slightly to the side and sighed. "Come now, you are capable of this and more, little Monster. You are in danger of committing the cardinal sin of _boring_ me."

"Boring you?" The Warrior tucked a hand against her chest, blade angled to lay flat against her torso dramatically looking aghast. "_Boring_ you? Well then, I _do_ apologize, Mister Emperor _Sir_ ."

"'Tis _Mister Emperor Lordship_ _Sir_, and-" He didn't get to finish, smirking as she bolted across the ground. The Warrior cackled as she hammered both blades into his shield and then spun, grinning crookedly and then dropping suddenly to hook both blades under the offending piece of metal and haul upwards. She slid aside, letting his stab go past her and surged forward to scrape the tip of one blade across his breastplate even as he leapt back and. "Better! Now. Do it _again_."

She lifted one blade in a salute, set herself, and skipped forward. 

"Well now, of all the little rats to sneak through my defenses, I _hardly_ would have thought that one of them would have been _you. _Enjoying the view, are we?" 

Zenos grunted, glancing back at where another Solus was hovering, clad in his fur-trimmed coat and sipping some manner of drink that steamed. "There are few things I could ever wish to see. The fighting style of my friend, of my greatest foe is a chance that cannot be passed over lightly."

"She is rather out of your league, I'm afraid." Smirking, the Solus that floated nearby drifted upwards enough to peer over the wall and watch the other vessel sweep aside one of the swords and surge forward, connecting solidly with the shield and sending the Warrior staggering back as she windmilled her arms and then sat down heavily as a low hedgerow caught her across the back of the legs. She laughed, the sound reaching them there easily even as she threw herself into a backwards roll as his sword went flashing out for her and was met only with branches. They bantered back and forth idly, both utterly amused.

"_Lovely_, now I must needs square off the poor thing once 'tis regrown. Tisk _tisk_ Warrior, aren't you supposed to be _protecting_ life?"

"A willing and worthy sacrifice that won't go unmourned! HieeeYA-Oof!"

"Well, _usually_ she would be out of your league. As things stand, she fights largely blind. And yet, still she dances." The coated Solus idly sipped his drink, watching as the armored vessel straightened from where he had deftly slid aside both of her blades and introduced his boot to her sternum.

"Even a blind beast will still bare her sharpened claws to the world. For all that she lacks her sight, she holds back. This... Is not her true skill."

"So dross, to liken her to a beast. How _crass_. 'Tis not my true skill either. Not yet. Once she has the hang of it, then and only then will I be able to indulge her." Sipping his drink once more, pale-gold eyes shifted over to study his great-grandson, eyeing him up and down. 

"I could indulge her right now. This dance of yours, it does not do her _justice_." Climbing the rest of the way up so that he could sit on the wall, Zenos watched as they continued across the grass, weaving between the trees. 

"Do you think you could? That she would not notice? After the next strike then, if you can. Let us see, just how great the range on your Resonant truly is. _Do_ recall, however you are not allowed to try and kill her until your fight some few weeks hence." 

* * *

Sidling aside to avoid the way the shield came out to rebuff her, the Warrior blinked as amethyst and gold flecks gave way to roiling black that was lit by streaks of violent red that had until previously rolled into her sight atop one of the walls next to another plume of what was undeniably Hades. They had swapped places. The aether was all wrong. He'd given his body to someone else for the moment. And _thatwasastreakofblackedgedinred-_

She threw herself to the side, going into a roll and just narrowly missing the pale green aether that she had come to realize meant 'tree'. Coming up, she just about set herself before repeating the motion, this time going into a forward tumble when she felt the static tingle of a presence behind her. Bringing both swords up, she swatted horizontally to confirm the shape and size of the weapon. It was still the sword, she could tell by how when she hooked her blade and dragged it it caught on some of the filigree along the flat, but the weight behind it was all wrong. 

Her blade was pressed aside as if it weighed nothing, as if it _was_ nothing, and she leaned back to get under the incoming strike, snaping up because she expected a shield that did not press the advantage and lurched, somewhat offbalance by how her other blade met nothing but air. She failed to right herself in time, though she did kick off and start to curl as a boot caught her in the ribs and sent her bouncing and sprawling across the lawn. _Definitely_ not Hades, she mused. They had been playing, and that kick was not playful at _all_. 

The blade was held off to the side, a pane of black outlined in angry, violent red, and whomever was controlling one of Emet-Selch's vessels stalked towards her at a familiar, stately walk. 

"Seriously? You tagged out with _Zenos? _What happened, old man, didja get tired?"

"Well now, barely three blows and she knew who you were. Perhaps there is some hope for her after all. Entertain me, for I have worked hard and have earned my rest."

"Ass. Hat." The Warrior backpedaled slowly, shifting to circle around as Zenos continued to approach with that measured pace. "Right. God to know the _rules of engagement_ have changed."

"Come now, eikon-slayer, do you yet fear me? You flee like all the rest of the _lesser beasts, _hoping against hope that I might, what, suddenly cease my pursuit?" Laughter rang out, discordant and she found herself bristling. 

"That. Is _not_ your voice to speak with, and not your lungs with which to laugh."

"Then come, come and dance with me, come and stop me from speaking with these lips. You, who possesses the Echo, slayer of the gods of savages." He was spreading his arms in invitation. She could see that, or at least make enough sense of the gesture to figure out that was what he was doing. A glance over to where the amethyst Emet-Selch shaped mass seemed to be confirmed that he wasn't very far away at all, and she drew in a breath only to let it out slowly, both blades dipping towards the ground. 

"Zenos, I could fight you one-armed, skunk-drunk and with my _eyes_ closed. You've got half a bell of my time, and not a moment more. And by the end of it, I _trust_ that the body you're borrowing goes back to his rightful owner."

The way the red lines rippled and coiled through the mass of black before her was odd, but she took it as excitement. It certainly seemed like it would have been, from him.

* * *

Emet-Selch watched as she sprawled in the tub, wisps of steam rising around her. Zenos had left a bell or so ago, continuing his treck to civilization, and the worst part of it all was that she was _sulking_ and had refused thus far to speak with him. Sighing, he set aside his glass of wine and started to strip down, eventually making his way to the tub and walking down the steps set into it so that he could partially submerge himself and sidle up next to her. 

She slid aside, eyes still closed and pointedly looking _away_. He took advantage of it to dart after her and press his lips along the side of her neck. The miffed, irritated disgruntlement that was mixed with a smattering of anger shifted, and he smirked to himself even as he lightly nipped along the column of her throat. One hand shifting to cup one of her breasts under the water, he trailed his thumb across the nipple and then offered her his best apologetic smile as she cracked open an eye and glared at him. He opened his mouth to speak, and promptly shut it as she surged forward and shoved him under the water with both hands, and she straddled his head even as she gripped his hair and _pulled_. 

Very well. A penance to be served. A snap of his fingers resolved the issue of breathing for his vessel quite nicely, and he got to work.

* * *

They returned to the First, and she was particularly conscious of the mask on her face regardless of how it fit like a second skin. Nobody really commented on it, fortunately, though Urianger _did_ stare for a long moment before glancing at the Ascian that walked with her. He could tell it was _important_, but simply inquired as to how they would be returning to Eden. She had answered by offering Midgardsormr, on the condition that the elezen keep him distracted with conversation so that she didn't have to listen to him drone on and on about her life choices. They shook on it, and were soon on their way to the Exarch for a few points of business before they were off.

The trip itself was largely boring, and would take all day considering the dragon had to carry three people, but the saddle was accommodating enough and she sat sandwiched between the two people she had come to rely on the most out of everyone. Any commentary directed towards her was skillfully intercepted, and she was free to ignore the fancy, effort-laden theeing and thouing that Urianger excelled at so that she could idly lean back against Emet-Selch and doze idly. 

At length, they arrived, and she bid the aether-formed dragon a fond farewell as he dissipated before turning to the others and joining them for the walk towards the center of the camp where Thancred was folding his arms and Ryne was waving excitedly. 

"You made it back!"

"We've also got a map of the changes. Urianger was jotting them down on the trip over." She glanced at Thancred, who was staring at her as if she had grown a second head. "What? Thought you'd be happy for that. It means you won't accidentally drive into any lakes on the way back."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He frowned at her, and she gestured to the skyslipper. 

"Means it's you and Ryne's turn to go and take a rest. The three've us will stay here with the guest, while you two go and make sure you're aether's not tipping too far." Digging through a pocket, she stepped forward and pulled at one of his arms, getting the gunblade to uncross them and then pressing a crinkled piece of paper into his hand. "Go. _Trust_ me." 

Thancred looked like he was about to protest before he glanced down at what she had handed him. Eyes widening, he looked back up and then over to Ryne, before nodding slowly. "Alright, well, I suppose I could use the chance to swap out what books I've got anyways."

"Yus!" Throwing her hands into the air, the Warrior beamed and then turned to grin at Ryne. "Get packin', girl!"

Though she was given a confused look, her words were heeded and soon enough the former Oracle was stepping back out of her tent with her backpack over one shoulder and into a one-armed hug as the rogue steered her over to where the gunblade was stowing his laundry. 

"Now then! If I see you lot back in anything less than a week, you're -grounded-, and that goes for both've you." The Warrior helped Ryne up the side of the skyslipper, pressing a piece of parchment into her hand with a wink. "Now go on! Get out've here! And don't you worry about Eden! Urianger's on the case."

"How did-?" The teenager had checked the parchment and then glanced back up as the rogue hopped off the side of the vehicle and waved at them. 

"SEEECRET NOW BYEEE~!"

Thancred rolled his eye, before they were off, leaving the Warrior waving away the fine grit that had been kicked up. 

"Sad as I'll be to miss her birthday, she deserves to have it somewhere that's not work related. You sure you got this, Urianger?"

"That thou feels the need to inquire doth _wound_ me dearly." He glanced up at Eden, before looking back at them. "I shalt make this journey alone, so that our guest might remain attended."

"I'm hearing a lot've 'I won't be -really- upset if you draw on her face, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't'. Do I have that right?" She glanced over at where the elezen was smiling faintly, and he nodded. "Well, I mean a week's an _awfully_ long time. We'll play it by ear. Give a hollar if you need anything, alright?"

"Verily. Fare thee both well." 

She waved as he stepped up to the aetherite and vanished. 

"So... About those art lessons I asked about..."

Emet-Selch would _never_ have done anything as indignant as snort and ever admit it, but the amused huff that came from his direction was close and just made her smile grow that much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MET ONE! I finally met a Named Character in game! I met a Zenos and he had an amazing glamour that looked really good!  
AHHHH I was inspired to write, though I wasn't thinking of completing this chapter until tomorrow. But how could I not?  
Some things that Zenos said in Ala Mhigo are about to become very important, by the way


	31. It's okay

Emet-Selch liked to think he could amuse himself when it came to it. He had _practice_, after all, and really anything could be turned into entertainment to while away the hours. Napping helped. The problem was that after thoroughly decorating their guest's face for an hour, the Warrior had wandered off and started to poke around everything in the immediate area. Urianger's tent was rifled through and she started trying to make tea. While in Ryne's tent, she had made an utterly _awful_ squealing sound that a quick glance had been confirmed as excited delight with how her aether was swirling happily, before she exited and eyed Thancred's. 

She disappeared inside, something snapped, and she cursed for ten minutes straight before she exited with a limp, complaining under her breath about _bear traps_.

Every time the Ascian had just about dozed off, stretched out on a ledge with his armored hands tucked on his chest and using his shield as a pillow, her soul would spike and roil and she would try something else. He endured it for three hours before sitting up to stare as she juggled throwing knives, working six of the glittering, flashing blades through the air. 

"You truly _are_ incapable of settling down. Come here."

The flickering stream of blades slowly ceased as she started sheathing them while ambling her way over. He patted the ground beside him as he stretched out once more, staring at her as she hesitated and then rolling his eyes. 

"Come, lay down." She grumbled, but obligingly complied, laying down and tucking against his side as she often did. He looped an arm around her to secure her, and closed his eyes. "Good. Now then, watch my aether." 

She fidgeted against his side, before wiggling a hand up to trace along her mask. She settled down once more, complying, likely waiting for further instructions, though none were forthcoming. He simply let his attention drift, slipped into a light doze, and held her against his side as he waited for her to relax. 

_("You just... Never -stop-, do you." He drawled from the bedroom as she grumbled and puttered about in the kitchen. "Come then. I will **not** make it a habit, but you _ ** _do_ ** _ tend to stare when I cease hiding my soul. 'Tis a small price to pay for your peace of mind."_

_"I can't help it. I've always been this way. Won't people talk though? We're not bonded." She had ambled into the bedroom before clambering into bed and flopping down next to him. _

_"I hardly care what others think I do in the comfort of my own home." Suddenly self-conscious, he had a hard time prying his own walls down, but after the first few minutes the effects were immediate. The unsettled, caged-animal ripple of her soul settled as she watched him, and at length they were both dozing_ _peacefully.)_

Emet-Selch smirked slightly to himself as she wound down properly and drifted off, privately amused that some things never change.

* * *

"Hey Lovely." He smiled over at the Eschaton as she hailed him and meandered over to where he laid on the bank, and he didn't fight it when she gently pulled the book he was reading out of his hands and studied it for a moment. "Euripides? Again?"

"Nothing wrong with brushing up on a modern classic." Sitting up, Emet-Selch held out a hand, and she took it to let him pull her down onto the grass beside him. Almost idly, he leaned to pull the book back and marked his page before closing it and setting it aside. He took a moment to reach out to survey his surroundings and, on finding them alone in the small garden that sat nestled at the end of an alley way let the walls he usually held tight about himself fall. 

"Fair." Stretching out and tucking one hand behind her head, she squeezed his hand with the other. She was visibly amused as she watched him, head tilting slightly to the side and watching him through the flanged mask she wore. "We've done a lot of really good things together, you know. The Hanging Gardens, they're _beautiful_."

"'Tis just a building." Still, he lifted his chin and basked in the praise just as much as he basked in her presence. It had been one of his finest works, tiered and columned, both open concept and walled at the same time. "And I could not have made it without your input."

"And one day, it will crumble. The terraced heights will bear only the wildest, hardiest of plants, seeds windswept and sowed by the efforts of animals." 

"... 'Seph, what... Why would you say that?" He stared at her, baffled as the garden suddenly seemed so very small. The birdsong that had woven through the air had fallen silent, and the air stood so very still as he became suddenly particularly conscious of how mud-stained and tattered her robes were.

"Things die, Hades. Even us. Buildings break down under the elements. Time marches on, animals and plants evolve even without our touch. The world doesn't -need- us, Hades. But you know that. Part of your domain is what happens after. Reusing materials, what's left over to make something _new_." His wife sounded exhausted all of a sudden, resplendent soul of the most impossible, bluest blue cracked and worn for all that it still blazed brightly.

"I-" The roar of flames drowned him out, the sky above turning red as screams began to echo in the distance. Still, Eschaton laid in the curling, dying grass, holding his hand as if nothing was amiss. He looked around, struck by the sudden recollection that fear was what caused the misshapen monsters from being pulled from the aether, subconsciously formed by their creation magics. Of _course_ she was calm. She knew this too.

"It's okay, you know, to move on. Even if it's not really moving on. The more things change, the more they stay the same. But some times, you've got to let _go_." He could feel the way she was smiling at him, and dragged his focus back to her. She reached up, cupping the side of his face and tisked even as she shook her head. "You're trying to bring everyone back when they're all already _here_. Sure, they might not look the same, but if you keep looking so far ahead and too far back, you're going to miss what's going on right under your very nose." 

"'Seph-"

He stood at the edge of the cliff, holding her hand as she leaned back out over the forest that stretched across the horizon. He dug in his heels, reaching back to grab onto something, -anything- behind him to keep her from falling, but his grip on her was slipping. 

"It'll be okay, Lovely. Look around. Everything has it's own time, and it's own cycle, and before you know it familiar faces start popping up. The way we were doing things, it's what caused this mess. Our own creation magic, running rampant and spawning monsters." Eschaton peeled up the edge of her glove, and he was begging her not to, pleading with her that there must be another way, that she didn't have to do it, that they could find another way if she would just _hold on_. She simply smiled at him.

"Remember. Flowers aren't _beautiful_ because they last forever, and even precious gemstones get cracked and chipped with time. Neither of these things has more or less value than the other."

And then she was free of his grasp, falling, and in a moment of panic he took the final step left and _leaped after her-_

* * *

_"HADES!"_

The Ascian jerked slightly, sucking in a breath and blinked up at the Warrior as she stared down at him through the mask, eyes blocked by the subtle enchantment that gave her aetheric sight. She looked worried, and as he glanced around he couldn't for the life of him think why. 

"_Twelve_, I shook you _forever_ and not so much as a twitch!" She settled onto her knees at his side, sighing and reaching to collect one of his hands with her own. "You'd gone almost black as _pitch_, and then the gold star-bits started going out, and none've it was _moving_, and I panicked and you wouldn't wake up. What happened?"

"I-" Emet-Selch paused, surveying his own aether and thinking back on the unsettling dream. "... T'was simply a bad dream. We have them sometimes too, you know." 

He could see the relief as it suffused her, and propped himself up on his elbows as he squeezed one of her hands only to reclaim it and push himself up properly. He was part way up before her hand came out once more, and she helped him to his feet. "I think that's the first time I've seen you unconscious enough to have your mind sleep too. Usually I just sort of think you're off focused elsewhere."

"Usually, I _am_. What time is it?" 

"Uhh... Few hours after lunch, I think. I'm hungry, the sun's not all the way over -there- yet, and I'd thought I woke up because of that but then I noticed you were just... Yeah. That scared the everliving shit out've me." She frowned, circling him as he brushed himself off and rolled his eyes. 

"-Please-, I have survived countless eons, a single _nightmare_ is not going to cripple me, little Monster. Come, let us go and see what there is to eat before you accidentally pace yourself off of the ledge and sprain your ankle again."

"Yeah yeah..."

* * *

"Feo Ul! Maddest of Blooms and Branch of my Trunk! Beautiful, kind, caring Feo Ul~!" 

The Warrior was a short distance away from where Emet-Selch was heating up some kind of stew over the fire, and as he glanced over at her she raised both hands. 

"Don't worry, I'm just checking my mail. Lemme move a bit further so that you don't get caught up in any deals." The Ascian shrugged slightly, and turned back to his task even as she turned and ambled past the tents, hands cupped around her mouth. "Feo Ul! Sweetest song 'pon the fair winds! Your Sapling _needs_ you!"

"Ohhh~! She _does_ learn! Twice, _twice_ she called me now when there's a need, to sandwich a time for idle [chatter]!" A sparkle flashed into existence nearby, before the Fae manifested and clapped their hands together. "Ask, and know that I shall do what ever I can, my [adorable sapling]!"

"You just _love_ secrets, right? Well, I need you to keep something secret for me. From..." She jerked a thumb back towards the campfire, and the Fae flit slightly to the side and then drifted closer, nodding and clapping their hands together. "Good. So, there's this thing, called the Resonant. There's a man that can use it, called Zenos. I need you to find him, and ask him..."

The Warrior paused, before raking her hands through her hair and sighing. "... Ask him how he did it, with Shinryu. Spare no detail, no matter how terrible it may be. And then, I need you to also tell him to find a device Urianger crafted. It's... A lot to ask, but I need what we used against Fordola, and I need him to hold onto it for me, to keep it safe."

"In return, the next time I call you, I'll tell you everything I know about the Sylph that disguised themselves as a bard and the wonderful, wonderful things they sang about. It was quite the trick, you know, and nobody ever found out save for the handful they told. Well, and now you, I guess. Partial payment in advance, as a show of good faith."

Feo Ul clapped their hands together, beaming and nodding before she vanished. 

* * *

"Urianger! Welcome back. How's Eden?" The Warrior beamed and bound over, balancing a bowl of stew and shoving it towards the elezen as he materialized by the chunk of aetherite. 

"Fortunately quiescent in young Rynes absence. I would, however, request that thou and thine companion doth take the night's watch and continue monitoring the entity." Shifting the backpack he carried to one hand, he delicately took the bowl of stew and sniffed it as he ambled towards his tent. "Venison? Thy journey to the Source was most bountiful."

"Emet-Selch cooked it. Should be safe, I've had a bowl and didn't keel over."

"-Please-, I thought we already had the poison talk."

"I mean, yeah, but that won't do us any good if you botch cooking it." She grinned cheekily over at him, and the Ascian rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh don't be like that. Everything you've made so far's been _really_ good, but he hasn't had your cooking yet. Just mine. And let me tell you, _that_ didn't go well at all."

"Truly, she speaks of a time of great consternation and trepidation. It was thusly decreed that the Warrior of Light, while she may be allowed to hunt for the evening meal, was banned henceforth from taking part in any of the actual preparation." Tucking his pack into his tent (Urianger ignored the way one of his pillows was just slightly askew from where he had tucked it, for such was a matter for a time when his stomach wasn't snarling at him like some beast), the elezen moved to sit down by the fire and stretch his legs out. "I forsee no complications with Eden, but 'tis better to have the slayer of Lightwardens on hand should some pressing danger arise."

"All I'm hearing is 'I'm tired and want to eat and then sleep without worrying about having my face drawn on, so please spend the night on Eden'."

"Ever has thy skill at translating the unspoken proven apt. It continues to serve thou well." 


	32. Sweet dreams are made of these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of the previous chapter, but it felt more -right- to chunk it into two.

He wondered what she was dreaming of, as he watched her peaceful face. They were both lounging atop Eden, watching the stars and idling away the hours with word games that she proved utterly terrible at. He was half tempted to rouse her, but the familiar glimmer of Feo Ul's aether had him hesitant. It was slightly different from the dream she had admitted to as well. There were faint tethers of aether, gossamer thin that disappeared _elsewhere_. 

Still, he was _bored_. Eden wasn't going to go on a rampage, Urianger was asleep, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time he had sought to watch something others kept him from.

Making himself comfortable, the careful weaving of aether to suit his needs and lay down a series of preventative wards took but a moment and, as he settled his hands onto his chest, he curled one so that he could focus, and then _snap-_

* * *

"-a bending of the Will." 

Zenos sat cross-legged in the field of flowers, idly rolling the stem of a wineglass between his fingers. He appeared to be wearing his Garlean armor, the revolving mechanism that held his three swords propped up on it's stand nearby. In front of him, stretched out with her hands behind her head, lay the Warrior as she stared up at where Shinryu remained caged by the Allagan device that had done so within the true Menagerie that their environs was modeled after. A shoebill almost casually made it's way along the walkway to take cover in some of the flowers.

"Yeah, but... _How_."

"How do you know when to duck, when to dodge? When to side step, or when to weave?" The blond swordsman smirked, tipping his head back to drain the wine from the glass before he reached out to snag the nearby bottle and refill it. 

"I dunno, I just... _Do_. I mean, yeah the Echo will sometimes paint colours across the ground, but that's just... 'S just an extra, that. It just makes it easier, it doesn't tell me what height the blow comes from."

"And so you have your answer, Savage." Raising his glass, Zenos took another sip and quirked a brow as she groaned and sat up, raking both hands through her hair and pulling at some of the strands.

"No I _don't_, and that's the problem! Ughhh!"

"Controlling the elezen for the trip back to Garlemald was the same. A bending of the Will." Blue eyes snapped over as the shoebill edged closer, before the swordsman was smirking once more. "'Tis surprising, my friend, that you didn't ask my great-grandfather."

"It's _different_. 'Sides, I wanna have something workable to tell him, and this... Sorta borders on something I really don't like anyways."

"Ahh yes, the matter of 'free will'." Leaning casually to the side, Zenos shifted the glass to his off hand and reached to haul one of the swords free so that he could heft it a few times, turning it over in his grasp. Blue eyes remained fixed on the shoebill as it ever so carefully edged away, but flit towards the Warrior as she twisted and quirked a brow at the weapon. 

"Hey now, you couldn't even beat me in your dreams, we tested this not even... I dunno. Not even that long ago. How's time even _work_ in a dream?"

"Oh, it's not for _you_. But tell me, you mentioned a special way to cut something. Perhaps I can offer you some... Clarity, being something of an expert in the matter."

"Alright, so. I need, to be able to cut something _without_ actually cutting it." She shifted, pulling a flask out of thin air and taking a sip from it before she pointed towards the swordsman. "I've _done_ it. I know I can _do_ it, but damned if I can figure out how. I cut a man's soul once, cut his tempering right out. And I didn't even do it with a sword! I had a chunk of white auracite in one hand, and-and I don't even know in the other! And I _know_ it wasn't the Auracite that I used to cut him, because that's not how that stuff _works_."

"This sounds like no swordskill I have ever heard of or seen put into use." Zenos furrowed his brow, looking thoughtful even as he gently laid the sword across his lap. 

"It's my 'plan ey'. If I can cut the tempering from the Ascians, then I can talk some sense into them."

"Why not simply kill them? If they are so inferior as to fall before you like so much wheat to the scythe, then do they not _deserve_ to have the light of their souls snuffed?"

"Zenos, look, you're missing the _biggest_ irony and point to all've this. Yeah, in fights people die, sure, in nature, things die -all the time-, but people tamed things to hunt with for a reason. People are _pack_ animals. Hunting alone's all you've ever really done, so I can't blame you that you missed that lesson in your life, but half the fun is grooming a young hunter, watching them sharpen their claws and reveling in the strength they grow into. Remember when we fought here? You were _gleeful_, you were _ecstatic_ that I'd gotten so strong. Something you've never felt before. And it wasn't because you _lost_." The Warrior jabbed her finger towards him as she spoke. "It was because something you'd put so much effort into _paid off_. Just think what you could do with Garlemald if you applied that to it!"

"An empire of puppets. I care naught for-"

"You _should_. Look at Fordola. You let her get the experimental Resonant not because you were worried that it was going to fail and that you were going to suffer for it, but because you wanted her to get stronger. You looked _put out_ when you learned she'd lost, just as much as you were happy I'd beaten her. Think of all the hunts you could go in, if you just put in even an onze of effort! Gladiatorial combat, prizes, you could bare-handedly fight an entire army and have folks _leap_ at the chance! Give them rewards if they work their way up the ladder, motivate them. And I don't just mean with the blade of your sword. Just because someone's weak when you first cross their path doesn't mean they'll always be that way." She grinned at him, taking a sip from her flask and sighing contently. "Be the grindstone people test themselves against, and you'll _never_ want for violence and combat, provided you don't kill them and maybe give them a few pointers."

"Is this your advice as the eikon-slayer, or as my great-grandmother?" He smirked at her, and she snorted even as she flopped back into the flowers. 

"_Both_. People _seriously_ fucked up when it came to you, and I'll be damned if i'm not gunna try my hand at fixing some've that. No descendant of _mine_ is going to be stuck with a strain of _my_ insanity without a healthy way to cope, damnit."

"Very well, Savage. If you beat me at the end of the month, I will give your words serious thought." Zenos side-eyed the shoebill, measuring the distance and shaking his head slightly as he looked back to the Warrior. "And if I win, you stay with me for a month for the study of your Echo."

"One week, and only _IF_ I get to choose the week. I'm _not_ just upping and abandoning your great-grandfather for thirty some-odd days, and I've got a lot've work I need to get to. And then at the end of that week, three days of rest and prep and we fight again."

The blond swordsman thought it over for a few minutes, before nodding in agreement. "Very well, eikon-slayer."

"Which reminds me, Krile's Echo just lets her understand pretty much all languages and gives her _incredible_ hearing and the ability to trace the Lifestream. How'd you and Fordola end up with the Resonant's you've got?"

"Aulus mal Asina." Raising his glass, Zenos then brought it to his lips and took a sip. "He claimed to have unlocked my genome, which in turn unlocked these powers. They were not transferred from the lesser beast, but something I thought wholly unique to myself. Imagine my surprise when I learned that the potential had been decided 'ere I was even born, determined by heritage."

"I mean... That... Sort've makes sense. You can body-hop like an Ascian, something I never could do. And you've got crazy speed and strength, moreso than normal for a Garlean, which might be from my, uhh... Previous self. And you can see the coloured patches on the ground like I can." The Warrior propped herself up on her elbows, blinking at him even as she tilted her head to the side. "I wonder if controlling Shinryu was from his body-hopping and controlling of other people, or..."

"A mix of both, I would wager." The swordsman set down his glass so that he could take up his sword in both hands, studying it and smoothing the palm of one armored hand along the flat. "You seem unaware of it, but when you speak... There's a pull. A subtle tug. You make people want to believe your words and agree with you, without even realizing it."

"What?" She sat up, baffled and staring at him as he studied his reflection in the sword. 

"'Tis true, though my forebear seems... Curiously blind to it. I felt it myself, when you sought to prevent me from drawing an end to our dance after Shinryu. Of course, at that time I was... Unaware, of that aspect of my Resonant."

"You just didn't want to face the fall, to face how you'd feel when it all wore off. I can't blame you, though killing yourself like that pissed me off like nothing else. Well, now you know. Though, that makes me wonder if Emet-Selch might be strong enough to turn around and muscle Zodiark into not _eating_ everything. Twelve, that'd be an easy fix, right there..." The Warrior scrubbed her hand across her face before lifting the flask and taking a swig. "... Must not be a very strong pull. Lots've people go against what I want."

"Do they? You managed to convince Nero tol Scaeva, a man dedicated to Gaius van Baelsar and Garlemald, to work with the man he had long lived in the shadows of. Did you not unite Eorzea, creating a line of banners heretofore unseen standing next to one another not once, but twice?"

"... Twice?" She squinted at him, and he laughed, a rich, hearty sound as he threw back his head. 

"I had heard the amnesia of the last calamity was widespread, but surely you remember it. It was always in the reports. You and your little companion the world seems to have forgotten about."

"I-"

The dream _twisted_, and the two of them plus one shoebill stood near a campfire where a male elezen poked and prodded at a campfire. he glanced over at them, seeming unsurprised before he pushed himself up to his feet and tucked a hand against his hip.

"Hero, wherever have you been? You went a-wandering and _left_ me here for two days."

"Hero," The dream shifted again, and this time that same elezen was casually reaching behind his chair for his weapon, looking towards the brutes that had followed her from the bar. "I keep asking you to tell me when we're to have visitors."

"Hero!" They stood in a hallway that seemed to stretch forever, and the elezen was easing to a halt nearby, hands on his knees as he panted for breath. "Confound it all, why do you have to _run_ everywhere!"

The elezen lifted his hands to the sky, weaving aether into harmless fireworks as children giggled and laughed, distracted so that she could sneak away-

"Hero?" A flash, and he was looking at her as if she had grown a second head. 

"Wherever you go, Hero, I go too." He was smiling at her, though it was partially a grimace. It was _never_ a good idea to break out of a clinic through the window with a broken leg, after all... 

* * *

The Warrior hit awareness with a grunt, sitting up abruptly and staring blankly at the slowly brightening sky in front of her. 

"Well _fuck_."

"If you truly want to. It may take a moment to strip off my armor, however." The way she rolled her eyes and flopped back drew a smirk from the groggy Ascian, who was still collecting himself from how he had been forcefully ejected from the dream. 

"Asshat. Nah, I just... There's someone I gotta try and find once I get back to the Source. I don't have much hope that I'll actually be able to, but... before the last Calamity I had a friend who was in the Ala Mhigo resistance. His brother was in it, too, but he traveled with me for a time. Right up until the Calamity. And I've got no idea what the seven hells happened to him." She squinted up at nothing in particular, before rolling over and tucking in against his side so that she could use his shoulder for a pillow. "I'm _pretty_ sure he's probably dead, and I don't remember much about him, but... I got enough to work out where I might start. He worked for the Scions before they were the Scions, and was paired with me to try and keep me from getting myself killed."

"What would you do if he was alive?" Scooting his arm around her, Emet-Selch tilted his head to study her even as his other hand came up to idly trace along the edge of her mask. 

"Make sure he'd made it back to his brother. Make sure he'd gotten paid for all that work. Tell him I'm sorry I left behind. Mean it, too." The Warrior closed her eyes as his fingers ghosted along her face, sighing softly. "... We should head back to camp. Urianger's probably already up and prepping to make his way to Eden's core."

"As you wish, little Monster."

Cracking open her eyes, she peered at him searchingly for a moment, before humming as tendrils of darkness curled around them. 


	33. I will love you regardless

"I have come to a conclusion." Urianger folded his arms as Emet-Selch and the Warrior materialized in a patch of shadow, sprawled out on the ground. They both looked up at him as he stepped around them and peered downwards. "Thou art sorely taxed and frazzled after barely a day's worth of keeping watch. As such, 'tis my duty to task thou with remaining sane. Thy choices are thus; Discuss with me in great detail the aspects of Ifrit and Garuda, strive to recall all that thou can to cement a specific visage into thy mind, or find some activity with which to occupy thy time 'til Thancred's return _elsewhere_."

"Uhhh..." 

"Thou hath commited the gravest of sins, Warrior." He narrowed his eyes at her, and she sheepishly rolled onto her back on the ground so that she could poke her fingers together. 

"Sssoo... I take it that you're _really_ mad at me for that, aren't you."

"Thou _stole_ my undergarments and scattered them through Thancred's tent, Warrior. T'would not be too grand an issue save that thou destroyed a pair in thy attempt to jam some manner of jawed trap. Long have I weathered thy temperament with attempted good humour, but in damaging my property thou hath crossed the _line_. Grant, as is given."

"Okay, but, what if I gave you a pair of _my_ underwear to tear up?"

The astrologian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Read 'twix the lines and understand thus the unspoken, as thou often do Warrior."

"Right! Sorry! Emet-Selch, _please_ can you take me back to the Crystarium? I gotta raid his panty drawer-"

Urianger let out a slow sigh as he turned and slowly made his way back to his tent, shaking his head and trying to ignore the drawled acquiescence from the Ascian.

* * *

"So. I. Had a thought. I know, rare for me, but hear me out." They were idly wandering the Crystal Tower, a 'guided tour' as it were, and Emet-Selch wanted to at times both praise and strangle the Tia that had so altered the internal structure. Said Crystal Exarch was up in the Occular, undoubtedly watching them despite all assurances that the Warrior was going to keep an eye on the Ascian. The quirked brow had spoken volumes about how it wasn't exactly _Emet-Selch_ he was worried about, and had shot him a pleading glance that had been returned with a roll of pale gold eyes and slight nod of his head. 

"Wonderful. These little thoughts ever prove oh so _illuminating_." The Ascian peered down over the railing, drumming his fingers against the metal bar and humming at the way patches of _floor_ were missing and fenced off. Oh, _sure_, everything was largely structurally sound, but still...

"You had something to do with an airship called the Prima Vista, right?" She hauled herself up on the railing, arms out for balance and ambled along a few fulms. 

"Well now, not a topic I expected at all. Yes, I was one of the major contributors to the funding of the utterly delightful craft. Ever have I held a _fondness_ for the theatrical arts, as you are aware." He watched her, cocking his head to the side even as he clasped his hands behind his back. The metal caps on her boots seemed like they would have made balancing on such a narrow rod difficult, but once she had her balance she tucked her hands into her pockets and ambled along with all the ease of the average person strolling down a wide street. "What brought this on?"

"Regrets, mostly. I never got to take you to the play in Gridania. I was _really_ looking forward to taking you there, and sure while we've got a few days now that Urianger's kicked us out've the camp I don't think I can find anything on such short notice. But I was hoping maybe, sometime, not today but, y'know, in the future you'd wanna go. To the Prima Vista. With me." She turned, pausing mid-step to hold out both hands and wave them as if to clear the topic out of the air, and he watched in amusement as her soul twisted into an anxious spiral. "I mean, unless you'd be bored! You must've seen the place countless times, and there might not be anything even being done that you... Would like y'know that's a _horrible_ idea, and I'm sorry, I shoulda thought more-"

"I would be delighted to." The smile that had started growing across his face widened as she tried to keep her surprise from showing. "Last I was aware, t'was somewhere over Kugane?"

"Uhh-Y-yeah, I mean... Last I knew it was there too. Might have to hunt it down though, which'll be an adventure in and of itself. I know the guy that flies it, and while he's turned into something more of a researcher than playwright, I'm sure he could throw something together if we give him enough of a heads up." She smiled sheepishly, before blinking down at him as he stepped up to the railing and wrapped his arms around her waist, turning his face to rest against her stomach. The Warrior's smile turned somewhat more amused as she tucked her arms around his head. "Man, is this what being tall's like? Just a constant dandruff inspection?"

The echo washed the warning across her sensibilities, but still all she did was cackle as he ducked out of her arms and simply shoved her backwards off the railing. She twisted in mid-air, out of range of any walls or ledges to snag before glancing to the side to see that he was plummeting only a few feet away and had one hand offered out.

"Tick tock, Warrior! The next floor comes quickly."

"What if I say no?" She didn't, instead reaching out to snag his hand. He turned in mid-air, pulling her across his torso and slowing dramatically so that they were drifting down with all the grace of a feather. The Warrior snickered, idly glancing around to get a better view of the area.

"Then I shall inevitably _cringe_ at the sound your body will make when you hit it. 'Tis akin to a wet sack of cement, which is never a pleasant comparison." Emet-Selch made a face, part grimace part disgust, before lifting one hand to tap her on the nose. "Still, tell me more. You say you know Lexentale?"

"That's the thing about having so short an attention span that you just keep running around helping people. You end up knowing really anyone that's anyone and everyone owes you a favour or two. I _might_ even know him better than you. What we think was auracite was driving him bonkers for a little bit." 

"Hmm. What I recall of the man was a dramatic blond haired Garlean that eventually was run out of Garlemald due to how Varis started a censorship panel. I have heard that he enjoyed flirting with the line that my grandson had drawn." Wraping an arm around her, the Ascian shifted in the air to put their feet under them as they touched down, tisking. "Horrible what happened to his wife, really. Wasting sickness."

"Yeah, I tried not to ask him about that. Guy's got two kids, it's probably hard enough without having that dredged back up. So what would you want to go and see?" 

"I have seen countless plays, countless renditions and countless casts of people with their own spin on each and every classic. _Surprise_ me, little Monster."

She blinked at him, before grinning impishly. "Alright." 

* * *

"My turn. A question for you, little Monster." 

The Warrior blinked, glancing over at him from where she was elbows deep in Urianger's sock drawer. "Eh? What's up."

"A direction as determined by personal orientation versus the effects of gravity." Emet-Selch raised one hand, pointing at the ceiling and closing his eyes, only to crack them open and smirk at how she was sticking her tongue out at him. "I have heard your native dialect, which quite honestly 'tis plain to see why you would have chosen to shed the worst of such, but have you ever considered purging the rest of it from your speech?"

"Don't wanna. I mean, sure I could talk all proper. I could probably thee and thou with Urianger, who's the best've them. But I do it partly because it's what comes naturally to me, and also 'cause it's _useful_. Let Alphinaud and the others talk to the fancy folk, he can spin words like a minstrel when he's of a mind to, but me? The way I talk lets the more common people know that I came from their tier of society. Makes me less intimidating to them, and means if I need to ask a rat pack for rumours and gossip I'm more likely to get what I want without anyone trying to lift my coin pouch."

"A surprisingly well thought out response. Not the first you have been asked such?" The Ascian turned back to the books he was rifling through, picking one up and leafing through the pages. 

"Not the first, no, but honestly there's only been, I dunno doesn't feel like it's been a double handful yet that've asked. When you weigh that against all the folks I've talked to, it's barely any." The Warrior turned back to the sock drawer, the tiny prize she had picked up for the elezen safely hidden, and closed it. "Something of a loose tally, considering all the nobility and leadership I've encountered. People tend to take it in stride. Oh, that... Reminds me. C'mere for a moment."

Glancing over, Emet-Selch closed the book in his hands and set it back down where he had picked it up from before idly stepping around some of the crumpled pieces of parchment that littered the floor. "Did you find something interesting and neglect to recall such until just now?" 

"Nah, I just... Gotta ask you something that's not quite sitting right with me." She stepped around a stack of books to meet him part way, reached out to tuck her hands against his chest and let out a slight breath. "So, it's been mentioned to me in passing that my Echo... It sort've messes with people's ability to choose. So... You said you could suppress my Echo, and... I wanted to, I dunno, just sort've make sure that I wasn't actually dragging you along anywhere you didn't actually want to go."

"Oh for the love of..." Rolling his eyes, the Ascian lifted his hands to cup the sides of her face and tilt her face up for a kiss. Blinking, eyes wide, she drew back after the first one and opened her mouth to try and speak, but he simply followed her and silenced her once more, stifling the sounds with his own mouth. She drew away once more, before blinking as she thumped back into the dresser. 

"Wai-"

Another kiss silenced her, and he dropped his hands to collect her own from where they pushed feebly at his chest, lifting them over her head and securing them against the top of the dresser. A low, frustrated grown emerged from her, and he broke the kiss to give them both a moment to catch their breath even as he dipped his head further and pressed a line of kisses along the column of her throat. 

"... Hades, look, I-"

"_Silence_. You think, that the only reason I am here, is because of _her_. Of whom you once were, and that you are only her vessel." The words were hissed into the crook of her neck as he crowded her, shifting to grasp both of her wrists with one hand so that he could drag the other down her side. The Warrior shifted slightly, eyes widening as his hand shifted under the bottom edge of her coat to smooth along the soft spot under her ribs before digging his fingers in as his voice shifted into a growl. "Fool that you are, you even believe it. You believe that I am only chasing a memory. You, Elidibus, and anyone else are so _caught up_ in the notion that you are an entirely different person, when should anyone that knew you before spend even a _fraction_ of a bell in the same room as you, they would immediately come to the same conclusion that I have."

"And what if I _want_ to be someone else." 

Pale gold eyes briefly widened, and Emet-Selch slowly drew himself up, released her wrists and stepped away. There was a moment of silence as they watched each other, one very carefully keeping their expression neutral as the other lifted a hand to her mouth and caught her breath. She swallowed slightly, clearing her throat and scrubbing her raised hand across her face as she met his eye and held it. 

"What would you do, if I completely severed myself from the past. From every past I've ever had. Would you respect that."

"Oh, little Monster..." Closing his eyes, the Ascian heaved a sigh and let his arms dangle down at his sides as he hung and shook his head. It was a struggle, to keep the almost hysteric laughter bubbling through him in check, but he managed. "Of _course_ I would."

"Why."

"_Why_, she asks..." He turned slightly, starting to step back around the stack of books he had pursued her past so that he could make his way to the window and tuck his hands against the windowsill, staring out across the Crystarium. "Because 'tis what you would want. Because I have waited an eternity, and I can wait longer if I must. Because I have thought of the path of violently conquering you, and know that such would only be a hollow, empty thing indeed. Moreso than the half-formed souls you surround yourself with."

"Because you'd just pick up where we left off with the next reincarnation? Hades-"

"If you were to divorce yourself from the past, then your next reincarnation would also be divorced from this past, and would be free to make their own informed choices. Oh, I would certainly _try_..." Closing his eyes once more, he dropped his head down even as he gathered himself, fighting the way his name, said with _her_ voice, resonated down through the core of his soul. She was silent for a moment, before she very quietly and softly voiced another question.

"...What if I asked you to pursue me as me, not as a reincarnation of the past....?"

"I will love you regardless." The statement flowed easily, unhesitatingly from his lips, and he watched as people milled about down below.

"Because to you, I'm the same person." She countered, gritting her teeth as she studied his back. An ugly feeling was swelling within her, all the doubt and bitterness that she had proverbially sat on and had hoped would go away on it's own.

"You seek complexity and clarity in waters that you pointlessly muddy-"

"I -seek- to understand if I'm living a bloody _lie_, Hades! For someone who's 'burdened by the truth' that fact seems to fly over your _head_. Did my Echo ensnare you, as I've been told it's got a tendency to? _Are_ you just chasing the shadows of the past? I _STILL_ don't know for sure if I tempered you after I tore out Zodiark's work, 'cause what Zenos described sounded an _awful_ lot like what I was doing to keep you together, and that's a -shit deal- if I ever heard of one!" The Warrior gestured, holding both of her hands out with her fingers curled towards the hands opposite. "I've _tried_ to not think about it. Twelve have I _tried!_ But it's not fair to either've us if this thing isn't _honest_, and it's gone on for long enough now that it's starting to _matter_."

Emet-Selch turned away from the window, watching her as she stared at her hands and looked like she was about to be sick. The fragments of her soul were _strained_, and he tut tutted even as he stepped away from the window and reached out to wrap his arms around her, pulling her against his chest so that he could rest his chin atop her head. With a sigh, he smoothed his hands along her back, rubbing in idle, comforting circles. 

"Insofar as tempering is concerned, you have a mask that allows you to study the aether of an individual, do you not? You recall what Zodiark's tempering appeared as. Only hesitation prevents you from dismissing such a fear. Believe you me, I _checked_. Yes, my bond to you, to _her_ remains, but I will show you how that looks in comparison to tempering, and you will come to learn the difference. I am not _forced_ to enjoy your presence, nor am I compelled to obey should you speak." Rocking them gently, the Ascian tucked his chin to press his lips against her hair. "Regarding your Echo, while it may work on those you have been forced to deal with, it simply does _not_ work on me. Am I aware of it? Yes. Do I utterly ignore it? _Absolutely_. The only thing that compelled me to make you a sandwich, scarf or mask is the simple fact that I enjoy your company, and that I crave more of it. Little Monster, do not think for even a moment that if I did not wish to stand beside you, I would remain. I have made an _art_ out of avoiding your soul over the eons. If you were her reincarnation six lifetimes ago and I maintained a distance then, why-ever would I be forced to endure you _now_ if not by choice?" 

"... 'Cause you miss her?"

"I missed her after the third Calamity. I still stood aside and remained out of her affairs when she went from a rice farmer to a bandit that stole from the rich and gave to the poor."

The Warrior sniffled slightly and hesitantly wrapped her arms around him to finally return his hug. "I'm... I'm an idiot, aren't I..."

"For suffering needlessly? Well, 'tis your admission, not mine..." She thumped her forehead against his chest, grumbling and sniffling, and he smirked as the colour of her soul brightened. "There there, no need to snot all over my coat. Feeling better, are we?"

"Twelve, you're such an _asshat_." She leaned back enough to bring a hand up and trace a finger over the center part of it, blinking rapidly as her vision shifted to the aetheric.

"You _love_ it."

She didn't contradict him, but she _did_ thump a hand against his chest that time, and Emet-Selch felt his smirk grow as she did. "Alright so... What... What should I be looking at? For if I'd tempered you?"

"Here. 'Tis found about the core of a person." Stepping back and collecting her hands, he tucked them against his chest so that they flanked the vessel's heart. "Where Zodiark's glossy black as you described it once wrapped around the colour of my core. Do you see any tightly-wound vines of crystaline blue?"

"... No. In fact... I mean I sorta thought..." The Warrior trailed off, shoulders rounding slightly.

"You _thought_ that Amaurotine bonding ceremonies would appear the same as tempering, stamped across the very heart of each partner involved. If part of your own soul is not wrapped around part of mine, then 'tis clear you have not tempered me. While I will admit, you _potentially_ could have, you lack the knowledge on how to bind part of our soul about my own in such a manner. After repeatedly studying myself to discern what, exactly, it was that you did the only conclusion that I have come to is that you instinctively made use of our bond and cradled me with your Will much the way you would cup water with your hands." Emet-Selch idly smoothed his fingers along the backs of her own, even as he let his eyes close to watch her as she watched him. "There is no crystalline blue, wound with silver strands ensnaring me."

"So... What did you... You said the bond was a permanent _mark_ though."

"It is. I did not lie, burdened by the truth as I am." A faint frown furrowed his brows as he focused. "Just as there is a permanent mark upon your own soul, fragmented and pointy thing that it is, there is a mark upon mine. Like lipstick against a mirror. You yourself noted that what you perceive as flecks of gold have a pattern to them."

"But... Then that means it's _everywhere_ through you-"

"Let me _finish_, you impatient, hasty little Monster." Huffing, he shook his head. "Every particularly emotional moment that you have experienced is stamped across your soul. In this, it becomes an inherent, unconscious memory. One such example would be that while you may not recall burning yourself, you instinctively know that fire is _hot_, and thus painful to touch, which in turn steers you away from putting your hand on a stove burner. Our bond, is one such mark. It is..." 

He trailed off, trying to think of a good way to describe it before cracking open his eyes and pursing his lips. "Words just simply do _not_ do it justice."

"Then show me."

Emet-Selch huffed out an amused sound, quirking a brow as she freed one of her hands and tipped her mask up, watching him. "Your soul is _cracked_, and-"

"Don't care. _Show_ me. I'll just worry about it otherwise. All the words in the world won't convince my heart to stop doubting itself. That little voice in the back of my head's loads louder than you, after all."

"Even if it will be painful?" A frown curled his lips downwards, even as she snorted and grinned crookedly. 

"What a thing to ask of the person that takes shortcuts by jumping off cliffs." Reaching up, the Warrior cupped the side of his face, grin shifting into a wry smile. "I'll be alright."

The Ascian mulled over her words, studying her before sighing. 

"Oh very well, little Monster. I can see you are determined to suffer otherwise. But not _here_."

A snap of his fingers, and they were gone.

* * *

They stood in the streets of Amaurot, and she briefly tugged the mask back down to boggle at how his aether saturated _everything_. All of the shades had vanished, even Hythlodaeus, and when asked why Emet-Selch simply shrugged and stared out at the empty streets for a moment before answering. 

"They were... _My_ Echo. Lacking Zodiark's tempering, naturally they could not reform. Hythlodaeus very likely only lingered as long as he had by drawing on the ambient aether to draw out his own existence and could only do so because he was armed with the knowledge of his own state of being."

"So... Wait, yours is gone now that your tempering's gone?""

Emet-Selch waved a hand idly, the other finding one of hers and weaving their fingers together. "A discussion for another time. For now, however, one last chance to back out."

"Listen, if I didn't balk at drowning myself in Lightwarden aether, knowing that it was going to be horrifically painful and could do worse than end me, what makes you think I'm going to flinch away from this?" She squeezed his hand gently, and he glanced over at her to take in the almost amused way she carried herself, meandering like a tourist. A roll of his eyes and he was pulling her down an alley, retracing old steps he had avoided until they came out in a small garden with an old willow tree that had one branch that stuck out over the water of a pond. She paused as she stared at it, lifting the mask up and then tucking her hand against her chest, over her heart with a frown. "... I... Know this place, don't I. But I never..."

"_This_, is my recreation of the garden I met you in. You were there, digging in the mud bank. After I had mustered up the nerve to ask why, you said you were digging frog barrows." He smiled fondly at the memory, before tugging her along so that he could sit down at the base of the tree and draw her into his lap. She went willingly, without protest even as she peered up at the tree branches. 

"I can practically see you, lounging on that one there. You probably didn't trust me not to push you off the one over the pond. Before you ask... No, it's not an Echo flash. Just... Seems like something you'd do."

"It was, and 'tis because you _did_, little Monster. We were barely four decades, and already you were a terrible hellion. My little _secret_..." Leaning his head back against the tree, Emet-Selch sighed softly and tucked her against his chest. "... And you are _certain_ that this... Is what you want? Even if it is painful, even if it might be overwhelming? Even if, once I begin, I cannot bring myself to _stop?_"

"I mean, I'd hope you'd stop _eventually_, but not because of me. Fun fact, that sounds an awful lot like a pre-sex talk." She was going for levity and it worked, drawing a huffed out sound of amusement from the Ascian even as she curled against him and tried to relax. 

"Concern about one partner's courage and pain tolerance immediately before a particularly intimate moment? Hmm, I wonder_ why_ there might be a similarity..."

"You're stalling, Hades."

"Of course I am. This... It is not meant to hurt, but I simply don't see how it won't cause you great pain."

"Yeah, well, second fun fact. You may've noticed, but in combat? That pain borders on naughty thoughts. So stop _worrying_ so much."

He glanced down at her, watching her for a moment until she lifted her face from his shoulder and quirked a brow. Sighing one final time, he reached with one hand to tuck a finger under her chin and press a kiss to her lips. 

She returned it, unhesitating, ever so willing, before sucking in a breath as the edges of his soul _teased_ her own. 


	34. Knock Knock, Asshat

She could _feel_ him. More than just the physical warmth of his body as she stared at nothing, cradled against his chest, she could feel him as a presence that hung in the air around them, like a subtle shift in the temperature. If she turned more one way than the other, she thought for a moment that she could have been _blind_ and still known exactly where he was in relation to herself. It was like static across her sensibilities, not dissimilar to how she had known it was Y'shtola outside the door, but the sensation _lingered_. It wasn't just a brief assurance of _knowing_ who it was and where they were, it was a constant, steady vibration through the air. 

It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and she stared at him, wide-eyed as he tucked his forehead against hers and let his eyes slide partially closed, looking almost wistful. 

"How long... How long have I waited, have I _longed_ for this..." The static tingled across her, and she furrowed her brows at the words. Surely, that couldn't be what he had been worried about. It was... It was starting to shift and tingle _through_ her, seeping through her skin and sending heat racing across her face and neck. For a moment, she almost likened it to the fever she had gotten by being exposed to his core, but she was more or less clearheaded. That dim, unconscious grasp she had on the lightwarden's aether weakened, and for a moment it started to flash through her-

He _tisked_, and it halted, the foreign sensation of something else having reached into her chest to grip it in what felt like a fist choking her for a moment. She couldn't _breathe_ around it, and worked to try and get some air into her lungs before the sensation eased, replaced by the sensation of being stroked from the _inside out_ that had her cross-eyed for the brief second she felt it. That not entirely unpleasant tingle of static settled into her bones, and she privately congratulated herself. The Warrior was dimly aware of how she had broken out into a sweat, and told herself again that she _had_ this.

"Part... Of the problem, I believe, is that your senses are far too tied to the_ corporeal_. You are blind and numb to your own soul, beyond the odd fits and spurts here and there that return to you information, such as who might linger behind a door." His voice seemed to come from far away and far too close at the same time, and she shuddered at how it seemed to rumble through her, vibrating through her chest. 

"If it felt like this all th'time?" She thickly spoke around the dryness of her mouth and the tightness of her throat, squinting as she stared at him. "Can't blame m'self."

"Felt like-? Oh, little _monster_..." He chuckled, the sound enriched by how she could feel it roll through her all the way to her curling toes as he threaded his fingers through her hair (_Why was her scalp so sensitive???_) and gently tucked her head against his shoulder. "I've barely even _started_. Sure you won't change your mind?" 

"... Now that feels like a _challenge_, that does. I said what I meant, and I meant what I said. No backing out now." 

"Then let go."

"Of what?"

"Oh for the love of... _Everything_, little Monster. Let go of the stranglehold you have on yourself. Otherwise you will continue to translate the experiences as physical ones, fight it and be overwhelmed, falling unconscious before I've done more than the equivalent of simply _hugging_ you."

"Izzat what you're doing?"

"It is, and your reactions are..." He sighed, the sound coupled with a quiet, bitten-back groan. "Would that you were not _blind_, that you could see the way your very soul turns and writhes..."

"You're getting off on this, aren't you."

"Not yet, and not in the way that matters."

The Warrior turned his words over in her mind, contemplating the way static trailed over her, before she closed her eyes and relaxed, letting the sensations wash over her. She was falling, falling inwards, and her physical sight abandoned her to leave her enveloped in a sea of amethyst and plum purples that were scattered with countless, tiny golden stars.

He was... _everywhere_. Under her, over her, around her, _inside_ of her, seeping through the cracks like liquid splinters and smoothing across the ragged gaps that she hadn't even known were raw. Even the gentlest of touches sent pain screaming through her, but... It was the pain of a bandage being jostled against a wound. She was reminded of how the Lightwarden aether had cracked through her, every moment a burning, blinding pain that had been staunchly ignored, and she could feel it there within her and tell that it the fist she kept it within was cradled by a second hand. She could relax, that numbed part of her wouldn't fall open. Compared to the cool velvet darkness that was a balm to the fever-heat that she had left behind, she was surprised to realize that she burned with her own fire. Briefly, panic surged through her (_What if she burned _**_him_**_!?_) before it faded into bafflement as she felt herself cringe down into a vortex. 

Amusement washed through her as her descent halted, buoyed by foreign feelings of reassurance and joy as they thrummed through her, and for a moment she went very still as she realized that _these were not her feelings_. 

Wordless understanding flickered through her, backed by a willpower and restraint that felt like an impenetrable wall even as it was layered with a gentle tenderness. The raw soreness had faded somewhat, and she thought for a moment that this must have been what it was like for _him_, when she had refused to let him dissipate. He was _there_, but... She could proverbially breath. For all that even the tiniest thought of movement felt like sandpaper against an open burn, it also felt... 

Like _safety_. Like _everything would be alright_. Like _home_, as foreign and baffling as the concept was to her. She drifted there, slowly adjusting to the sensations as the sense of tight-fisted control that lingered just at the edge of her sensibilities ever so slightly shifted. She instinctively twisted where she drifted, reaching out and meeting resistance as she came against it.

**<<No.>>**

But it wasn't _fair_, she thought, even as echoes and reverberations of that single, gentle denial vibrated through her. Here he was, cradling her, holding her like she was a fragile doll all while his heart remained closed. Sectioned off. Amusement roiled through her in answer to her almost petulant prodding, almost threatening to capsize her and she instinctively tensed, drawing herself more compact. 

**<<You cannot even _talk_** **like this yet, Little Monster. Afford me this small concession.>>**

Fuming for a moment, helpless, she gathered herself and set about exploring her options. There seemed to be a whole lot of _feeling_ going on, emotions bared and when she tried to 'see' nothing seemed to change. Moving was akin to...

_A bending of the Will._

She _stretched_, testing the sense of movement as she pressed outwards against him, meeting less resistance as he let her explore. Thoughts churned through her, and she found herself laughing as she turned the words over once more. Really, it was so simple.

_"How do you know when to duck, when to dodge? When to side step, or when to weave?"_

By not thinking about it. By just _doing_ it. It was like reaching out to pick something up, or raising her hands to catch something when it was lobbed at her. All the mathematicians in the world couldn't calculate whether or not someone would catch something, only where it might land. It was like leaping across the gap between two roofs. Two syllables hummed through her, and she drifted secure in herself as he _writhed_ around and through her with an exquisite pleasure that practically keened from his soul.

Of course, he couldn't help but hum four back that rattled her and sent jagged shards of _fracturedshatteredpain_ through her, but she braced herself as best she could and managed to keep from reeling at the combined pain and pleasure that had thrummed through to the very core of her. Apologetic caresses brushed around and through her, soothing as best they could even as she stretched and shifted, feeling at the damage the way a child would poke at a bruise. Exasperation and concern that weren't hers flickered through the background, and she spent the next several long moments learning herself, learning what hurt and what didn't until she balked at the examination of her own core.

There, at the center of herself, raw and exposed like a nerve, pulsed the cobalt blue of her heart as wisps of silver flickered out like the finest filaments of gossamer thread. Orbiting it, like the rings of a starglobe, ran streamers of crystalline, pale blue light that trailed after what she recognized as the rainbow of crystals she had collected at the behest of Hydaelyn. Not touching, never touching, she watched as the threads that drifted outwards flit around and through the rings as as if it was the most natural thing in all the world to do. Questioningly, she blindly groped for the velvet plum sea of glittering gold stars before resignation and agreement sifted through her in layers.

She was all too aware of the disparity between them, but if she _stretched_ she felt she could just reach the edges of him. She did, a few times, practicing then catching sight of what she looked like when she did. Glittering streams of cerulean stardust that drifted on stormcloud grey banks. A moment of focus and the stardust compacted, hardened and apologetic remorse suffused her as she noted the way Hades had flinched away from the sudden roughness. 

It was returned with amusement, and as she relaxed her will it went back to so much sapphire sand that wove and shifted. Still, for all that she was content to explore herself and marvel at how her own delight reverberated back to her, echoed like some sort of feedback loop through the soul that maintained an iron will, she had agreed to it for a reason. Yes, the sudden shifts in emotion would send her reeling, but she was getting the _hang_ of it.

She found that wall once more, and rattled against it. 

Firm, insistent denial answered her, and she hummed out two syllables, pleading. 

Less firm, half-hearted denial gently butted against her sensibilities, but she simply waited patiently, smoothing herself across the wall. 

He crumbled. He never _could_ deny her for very long, after all. 

The first things that washed over her was anxious, nervous concern. A hesitation that screamed of 'not ready' that was rapidly overtaken by the rising tide of _want_ and _need_ that came crashing over her, sending her spinning and dizzy as she waded through as much of it as she could. It saturated her, restraint no longer keeping it in check, caution no longer maintaining that barest of slivers of division. 

For a moment, she dipped under, drowning in the malestrom of countless ages of patient longing before he was rapidly retreating, panicking, rebuilding his walls-

She bobbed to the surface, realized she had found the way _out_ and dove right back in. In to the heart of him, vibrating peals of joy and laughter and _home, I'm home at last_ even as she found each and every nook and cranny that was a memory of _her, and her, and her, _so on and so forth while he bled into every moment that he had ever brought her happiness. The pressure around her scoured across her sensibilities and raked her raw, but she was _stardust. _She was milled sapphire sand held together with silver strands of thoughts, and the only parts of her that needed the illusion of a solid substance was the chokehold on the lightwarden's aether and the cobalt orbited by the fragments of Hydaelyn's blessing. 

She let most of herself _go_, spreading herself through him as he sobbed for joy and compacted around her, holding just enough to herself to make sure she wasn't truly coming apart as she surrendered herself to the utter bliss of two souls in love that had waited an eternity for each other.

* * *

Ears ringing, the Warrior cracked her eyes open so that she could slowly lifted her head ponder why everything felt ever so _heavy_. Everything was so -slow-, too loud, too sharp, too acutely physical. It felt similar to how it did after Hydaelyn called her to her side, and she made a quiet, inarticulate sound even as she tried to remember how _hands_ worked. The chest that she was leaned against expanded as Emet-Selch drew in a shuddering breath, letting it out just as slowly as he reached up to idly stoke along the side of her face.

She felt exhausted, but more importantly she could still _feel_ him. Just a little bit. Just at the edges, and probably only because he was still _touching_ her, soul gently resting against soul. Grunting, she cleared her throat and managed to slightly lift a hand. It was gently caught with the one that had been stroking her face, delicately weaving their fingers together. 

"'Tis your first time, my little Monster. Truly, you simply do -not- do things by half."

"Mrnngl." came her intelligent response, and he huffed a soft sound of amusement at it. 

"Half a soul, and you managed to maintain some semblance of awareness. Mobility will come with time. You, in literal essence, _blended_ yourself."

"Nnnnyuuki?"

"I am... Beyond fine, little Monster. Get some rest. We are safe here."

"Mmk." 

The Warrior let her head fall against his chest, eyes closing as she felt the gentle reassurance as it tumbled through her with the lightest of brushes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I like how this turned out. General premise is that the connection lets person a feel everything person b felt for them and vice versa as it turns into a feedback loop for however long it's allowed to continue, amplifying the sensations. Sure, it could make two people utterly hate each other but it can be -themed- and guided towards specific emotional frequencies.  
The problem with something that words can't do justice, is that writing it with -words- is...   
Well, impossible.  
Here's hoping I did a passable job!


	35. Oops

When she woke up on a bed, the first thing she did was try and reach out with her soul, only to find that she couldn't feel herself and had no idea if it was working. As such, she settled on blindly flopping a hand around until she realized the bed was otherwise empty. Cracking her eyes open, she squinted at the ceiling and yawned wide enough for her jaw to crack. A glance around proved that it was a familiar bed, at least, which meant Emet-Selch had brought her to his quarters. That -also- meant that she wasn't hallucinating the smell of cooking _bacon_. 

Stretching, the Warrior slowly crawled her way to the edge of the bed and swung her legs out over the edge one at a time, wiggling and shifting until she got her feet under her properly. Heaving herself up, she fought the weakness of her limbs and turned, facing the doorway. She shifted one foot forward, taking a step, before promptly crumbling face-first onto the floor. 

A quiet sound of irritation eased out of her. 

The door cracked open, and Emet-Selch stuck his head through the gap so that he could stare down at her and quirk a brow. "Still getting the hang of having limbs again?"

"Shuddup."

"Well, at least you seem marginally coherent again. Come now, up we get." Pushing the door the rest of the way open, the Ascian stepped in and crouched down, helping her to her feet. 

"Why d'I feel lieg I'm made-a jelly?"

"Overstimulation, I'm afraid. You simply took too long to let go. I _had_ thought you would sleep longer so that you could recover, yet here you-" He blinked at her, before tilting his head to stare at the floor. "... Warrior, did you break your nose on my plush antique Allagan rug."

"... Mebby."

"Oh for the love of..."

* * *

After setting her nose and spiking her rum with a healing potion, he made sure she was settled at the table and tucked a plate of breakfast in front of her. It was amusing, watching her trying to maneuver a fork. 

"So. Questions." She fumbled a piece of bacon, stared at it, and set the fork aside to just pick it up with both hands and take a bite. "... 'S good bacon. If you hoped I'd sleep longer, why were you cooking?"

"Practice, if you must know. Did you think I was simply naturally good at everything? Even a well learned skill, if left unused for too long, grows uncertain." 

She blinked at that, before nodding. She waited for him to lift his mug of coffee where he sat across her at the table. "Makes sense. Next question, was I ever a man?"

"Several times." Unruffled, he smirked as she pouted. "Does this irk you?"

"What? Nah. I was hoping you would've found it scandalous that I would've asked."

"-Please-, _Warrior_, do I look like someone that cares overmuch for the vessel? Certainly it has it's perks, however..." He was grinning now, eyes partially lidded in remembered satisfaction. "... Well, you _did_ contemplate asking just how I was so intimately familiar with how male genitalia looked."

"Wait, I thought... You..." She blinked at him, slowly turning red before she looked down at her plate. "... I thought you said..."

"That there were roughly a dozen of your lives that I had taken a direct part in? Did you retain nothing from the utterly delightful time we just had? Well, perhaps it was a _smidge_ overwhelming for you." Setting the mug down, the Ascian leaned forward to rest his elbows atop the table, smirking. "You have been female, male, both and neither. Never a beast, however, curiously enough. Very likely something to do with Hydaelyn's need for you to rise up against us at any given moment."

"Miqo'te?"

Emet-Selch lifted his coffee, eyeing her over it. "Warrior, if you are about to ask me one by one if you have been every, single race, I will simply put my head down and _nap_."

"So... I've been pretty much everything, at least once then?" She snickered, lifting her gaze and idly pointing at herself with the piece of bacon before munching on it.

"At the _very_ least. I don't think you quite grasp just how long it's been." 

"I really don't. I'm shit with numbers and I've always had a foggy grasp on time." She grinned at him, before picking up the fork and trying to scoop up some egg. "That's not an invitation to do it for me. I'm kinda happy without that number sitting on me like a surprisingly mobile Vauthry."

"Much like a chocobo, 'tis surprising that he ever managed to get airborn. By all known laws of aviation, he should _not_ have been able to fly." He chuckled, recalling how ridiculous the half-breed had looked with the ridiculous wings. 

"I don't think he much cared about the laws of aviation. Probably why it worked." She stretched, wiggling her fingers and toes and shifting in her seat. "Also, I had a thought. If you can show me how to do that by myself, I might be able to do something about the Lightwarden aether on my own."

"I already did. Simply let go. I believe the trouble you will come to will be finding your vessel again. You are still by and large _blind_, after all. As enjoyable as it was for you to learn me by touch alone, you could only truly see _me_ because we occupied essentially the same space and you borrowed some of my senses." Emet-Selch set down his empty mug, sighing softly. "What do you plan to do?"

"I dunno. But that doesn't mean I don't wanna try." She successfully shoveled another forkful of egg into her mouth, smirking at her victory as he folded his arms. 

"It shall have to wait, I'm afraid. Until you have recovered I will adamantly refuse to do that again. You almost came apart at the _seams_, little Monster." 

The Warrior squinted at him, taking in the way he lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes before relenting and nodding. "Alright. You win this one. I won't even fight it. You're worried and know that I'd knock on the walls you keep up, and it's a valid worry. That was a hell've a thing, and I can see why you'd crave that. Why you'd cave to it too. Yeah, I can be relentless in the pursuit of what I want, but you're smarter than I am. If you're dead set on something, then it's probably a good idea for me to listen. Your opinion matters."

Her admission seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, and he studied her before quietly clearing his throat. 

"Well... Naturally. On to other topics, however. I have given you ample time to think the matter over, and done some thinking on my own. 'Tis all well and good that you seek to find ways for us to complete the Ardor without the rampant loss of life that you find so morally repugnant, but what of those who gave themselves to pull Zodiark into being? Any ideas on how to get him to spit them back out?"

"Not gunna lie, I hadn't even thought about that. I'm still working out how to get the tempering out've Elidibus. What I _do_ think, though, is that if we suddenly have a bunch've souls that need bodies we happen to have Allagan cloning technology more or less readily available. You'd know more about how that works, I dunno what their lifespan's like. Given the ability to hop bodies I'd guess that won't be too much of a problem though."

"Mmh. Azys Lla could serve as a fitting temporary home, as well."

"Yeah. Big question though, how much of them is gunna still be, y'know... -them-? If we ever get them out?" She raised one hand, because two was too much coordination at the moment, trying to mollify the narrow-eyed stare that was leveled at her over the table. "I'm not saying I'm not gunna try, just that that level of tempering tends to mess with people's heads and the only primal made mostly of people that I'm familiar with was Shinryu. And those people were very dead. Only person I could ask about that is Zenos, and he's all the way back on the Source, 'cause he must've touched minds with it and might be able to tell me if there were a lot of individual souls working together or if Shinryu'd eaten them all and broken them down-"

The Warrior paused, looking thoughtful. "... So... I just had a thought... What if Hydaelyn didn't mean to split the Star? What if she was trying to cut them out of him? You said that her nervation and sundering ability splits people, right?"

"Enervation, the ability to drain the strength from something else. A workable theory, if one were to think of her as benign. Neither primal was by any means _perfect_. You would be the expert on her intentions in this, I'm afraid." The Ascian leaned back in his chair, lifting one hand to tap a finger against his lips as he frowned, looking thoughtful. 

"Well, I mean if they were fighting, she probably didn't have a whole lot've time to -aim-. Maybe she realized she wouldn't be able to with the way things were, and meant to chunk him up to do it later but didn't realize how deeply the Star was bound to him." She shrugged, before slowly stretching one limb at a time. "Hard to say without asking her directly or knowing the intentions of the ones that made her. And yeah, I remember bits and pieces but there's loads more that I don't. Most of it's all coloured with how much her heart hurt and how tired she was."

"A shame, that. I fully intend to ask you about that once you remember more."

"Meantime, bigger question." She leveled the fork at him, before quirking a brow. "Did she -really- jump on his back until he broke apart? 'Cause that mural made it look like she was trying to give him a back massage and that it just went horribly wrong."

Huffing out an amused sound, Emet-Selch pushed himself up and brought his mug over to the sink, setting it aside and shaking his head. "Well, considering t'was a battle between two incredibly massive chunks of crystallized aether, neither of which had _legs_... The mural was surprisingly accurate. She caught him between the ground and herself, and hit him with all the force she could muster-"

"No, not all of it." 

-That- got his attention, and he turned slightly to stare at her as she furrowed her brows. 

"She protected you, Lahabrea and Elidibus, didn't she?"

* * *

"So. How, exactly, do you put a soul back together?" 

They were lounging on the couch together. He had stretched out on his back with a book and then watched as she methodically wobbled her way over from the kitchen, only to drape herself over him like some sort of loose-limbed feline. Tucking her face against his chest, she had settled down to doze before rousing enough to turn and ask her question.

"Do you simply hoard these questions until you simply cannot contain them any longer?" The Ascian rolled his eyes as he read his book over her head, hands otherwise resting on her shoulders. "-You- don't. It largely happens on it's own, within the Lifestream. Or, conversely, it doesn't and the soul is fragmented further and spread out across multiple entities to allow the emergence of new personalities."

"Sssooo... Hydaelyn does that." She shifted slightly, nuzzling her face against his shoulder and nudging the tassels out of the way. "Man, the next time I see her I'm going to have so many questions."

"Blood-sucking tick that she is. Did you know? One of the very first complaints about Zodiark was how to power him, and it was believed that explaining why linking him to the Lifestream was a waste of time because of how obvious of a terrible idea it was. Lo and behold, Hydaelyn became tethered to the Lifestream regardless, in spite of all of the warnings and reasons why such would be a horrible idea." Emet-Selch idly turned a page of his book, before settling his free hand against the back of her head and starting to shift his fingers through her hair. She hummed appreciatively, relaxing atop him. 

"Why's it a terrible idea?"

"Because, little Monster, she would have the potential to temper every living thing as it was born. They would have to pass through her to be born again, judged and deemed worthy or unworthy. Nothing sentient should have such power, among other things. Think of it. A being that has the ability to simply stop people, plants, from anything being born. Something that has life itself hostage."

* * *

He had been rather pleasantly drifting, dozing peacefully when a faint tickle flickered across his soul. He lazily swatted his essence out, groggily thinking for a moment it was Elidibus and otherwise ignoring it until it happened again. Grumbling, he cracked open his eyes to see her face screwed up in concentration, before pressing his lips together to keep from bursting out into laughter. Staying very still, he watched her for a moment as she took a slow breath, and that ever so faint tickle across his soul repeated itself before her aether braced itself. When no retaliation was forthcoming, she cracked open an eye and then let out the breath she was holding. 

"When'd you wake up?"

"A moment or so ago. How long have you been attempting to touch me?"

"Feels like forever. Probably no more than ten minutes. Pretty tiring, though." She grinned slightly, before closing her eyes and leaning her head into his hand as he lifted it to run his fingers through her hair. 

"... Did I hurt you?"

"Hmm? I mean, yeah, I just about blacked out, but it's not like I wasn't _literally_ poking an ancient, powerful Sorcerer of Eld. Tickle the paws of a coeurl and it'll swat you eventually. It's not like your claws were out or anything. I didn't get set on fire or teleported to the _moon_." She shifted to tuck a hand against his face, smoothing her thumb against his cheek even as she kept her eyes shut. "_Stahp._ I can tell you're getting all sad. It'd be different if you whacked me on purpose. But you _didn't_. 'Sides, we spar and beat the shit out've each other all the time. I'm not exactly -delicate-. Now then, how many days do we have left before Thancred and Ryne-"

She paused, eyes snapping open. Emet-Selch blinked at her, before slowly quirking a brow as she went an unusual shade of _pale_. 

"Hades, Hades I'm an _idiot_ we've got to get back and we've got to get back -now-."

Sitting up, the Ascian eased her onto his lap as he furrowed his brows, eyes narrowing. Using his name, his _true_ name told him that whatever it was that she was worried about was serious. "Why? What is the matter?"

"I didn't even think to look, but I just got a sudden, terrible feeling that Urianger hadn't shirked his tempering. Not fully. We've left him there for _days_. Did you check him?"

"The last I did was when he was in his rooms." Reaching out, he snapped his fingers and pulled her equipment from across the room so that she could shift off the couch and start equipping it with a series of curses. 

"Shit _shit_ -shit- I just assumed he'd've been alright after a week but I never thought to double check. Twelve, I'm an _idiot!_ I should've realized sooner!"

"I don't understand, why do you believe he has not shirked his tempering?"

"He's a manipulative, sneaky bastard. When he's actually angry, his nostrils flare. He wasn't angry at when we left, he was _cold_. He _knows_ I'd rise to the bait of buggering off and getting out of something boring like that. He wanted me, or us gone. I've ruined tons of his stuff before and I never 'crossed a line'." 

"These are incredibly small, inconsequential things little Monster-"

"You of all people should get it! What did Hythlodaeus do when he lied to get us out of the office? _Flawless Pretexts!_"

He stared at her for a moment as she finished cinching the second belt around her waist. "Don't you mean _pretense?_"

She rolled her eyes and tucked her mask against his face, draping the scarf around her neck with the other hand. 

* * *

Eden wasn't there when they stepped out of the portal. That was the first sign that something had gone terribly wrong. The second was that Hades couldn't find any shred of it's aether, and thus couldn't begin to figure out what way it might have gone. He stood there, adorned in his armor with his arms folded as he stared out and contemplated what, exactly, he should do about it. 

The Warrior kicked rocks and cursed like the sailors her current reincarnation had grown up around before she threw her arms into the air and started to pace.

"Three days! Three day head start. He could get practically _anywhere_ with Eden in one. But he was -fighting- it, so that'd slow him down. If I was an Urianger, where would- FEO UL!"

Water burbled, flowing over rocks in the distance. Nothing answered her. She started to curse again and turned to look at the Ascian, and he nodded and swept over to take her by the hand and lead her through another portal out into the rock-strewn, torn flower fields of Il Mheg. Eden floated peacefully between the wings that emerged from Titania's castle, and they shared another glance before she took off running towards it. Emet-Selch shook his head and moved to try and catch up, eventually catching sight of a large mass that groaned and grumbled.

There, settled in the field and straining against the thick, grasping vines that tethered it in place sat Titan and above it floated the tired, resplendent form of Feo Ul.

The Warrior drew both blades, and broke out into a dead sprint. It was an easy climb up to reach the head, even as it grunted and jerked, trying to twist away. Stained green in spots with plant ichor, it wasn't able to offer up much of a fight as she systematically hacked into it's head, ignoring the flashes of yellow aether that Titania floated just out of reach of. As she dug, the vines shifted and maneuvered to burrow thorned tendrils in and haul thick chunks of the rocky, metallic hide apart, until she had finally found it's core. Stepping aside, she watched as the tendrils reached in and hauled the golden glowing sphere out before raising a hand towards the Fairy King.

"Wait! Don't crush it just yet! I might need it!"

The body of Titan shuddered and stilled, severed from the source of it's power, and the vines obligingly wrapped around their prize before the King drifted down. 

"You took your sweet time getting here, [Beautiful Sapling]! Ohhhh! This one counts as mine!" 

"Feo Ul, you sweet, summer Branch! You did all the work, so of course it does! Where's Urianger?"

"Corralled in his home, the poor confused [child]. Go quickly, with the wind beneath your heels!"

She saluted, and slid down along the vines until she had touched down next to the Ascian, who had slowed to a menacing walk when he had noted that they had things generally well in hand. 

"The elezen?"

"His house. C'mon, this way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every. Single. One of you.  
Is absolutely, utterly amazing, and I love all of you and thank you for the support you've given me T.T


	36. For the glory of Garlemald (pt 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured, if I'm doing a bittersweet fic for Garlean WoL and Solus for the 200 kudos benchmark, that I should at least have some sort of a basic premise to work from.   
And then I accidentally eight thousand words'd   
Some of it feels rushed to me, but I've also only been able to pick away at it off and on throughout the day. I might revisit it and clean it up a little bit over the next week or so. There's at least two moments that I want to expand on already.

He remembered...

The first time, he had caught sight of her across a battlefield. Reports had never been able to get much more than a vague description but everyone knew about the Wraith, the Monster that kept sneaking behind their lines to steal or destroy their supplies and, should they have come across any, rescue captives. The Wraith was known for their inexplicable ability to just... _Disappear_. No tracks, no traces left behind beyond the arrows with white fletching that was banded with blue. 

A memory had tickled at him, of a white bird held in the hand and banded with blue, but he had put it firmly out of his mind. He had a job to do. He could indulge himself another time.

They had long learned that certain stretches of the woods that they were tasked to pass through were more dangerous than others. They _knew_ she was in those woods, for all that they didn't know who or what she was. But, that first time he had seen her... 

Tasked with escorting a shipment, he hadn't gotten himself that high up in rank at that time. Simply another grunt that had graduated and begun his career with promising reports on his capabilities. There were twelve of them. It was presumed that there were enough of them that they would be able to guide the wagon through the woods without meeting the Wraith. He cheated a little bit by keeping an eye out for the aether of anything incoming. 

The woods around them had always been quiet, predator and prey alike holding it's breath. None of his squadmates spoke, each and every one of them nervously watching the trees. A spec of the most impossible, faded bluest blue came into range, moving quickly. He held his breath, paused mid-step, and slowly looked towards it. 

"Solus, what is it?"

Of course Regulus would have noticed. They always watched him for this sort of stuff. He's built up something of a reputation for having a sixth sense. 

"I heard something, Sir." 

The Duplicarius grunted, before gesturing for everyone to form up, and all he could do was stare as he drew his sword and readied his shield. The flicker of dancing blue came to a stop, sixty fulms away, back far enough that no mortal would reasonably have a chance to see them, waited a moment, and then started to edge to the left. 

He weighed his options. If she was the Wraith, then it stood to reason that she wasn't likely going to leave anyone alive. Then again...

He relaxed his stance, shaking his head. "Well now, seems 'tis nothing-"

The arrow was silent through the air. He only knew it was coming because he was _watching_ for it and was already moving by the time it had entered the clearing. He had gestured blandly with the sword and deliberately staggered as the weapon was knocked from his hand, turning and cursing and bringing the shield up. 

"The Wraith! It's here!" 

He followed the dancing flicker of blue with his other senses, dropping into a crouch and collecting his sword even as another of his squadmates crumpled, sprouting an arrow from his throat and gurgling as he choked on it and his own blood. Drawing himself up, he swatted the chocobo across the flank with the flat of the sword and watched as it took off with a WARK! that almost drowned out his shout to the driver to _Go go go, complete the mission!_

They formed up, backs to each other and trying to hide behind those of them with shields. More tended to try and hide behind him, considering the only arrow he'd yet to knock away was embedded harmlessly into the edge of his armor, having punched through part of it. He spent a moment studying the end before cursing once more. 

Bodkins. Pointed, narrow, thankfully not barbed but designed specifically for punching through armor and shields. It certainly explained why most of the Garleans that came into the woods also never came back out when she was around. He figured she must have been using a composite longbow for both the range and the force behind the shots. 

One of his squadmates fell at his back, and he ignored them as he tracked her progress. She was circling them, though she would periodically cut back to try and keep them guessing the next direction she would fire at them from, before she took off parallel to the road. A heartbeat passed where no more arrows were forthcoming before he cursed (because if he had done it immediately, they might have caught on, the stupid blind, writhing worms that they were) and started running along the road. 

"The wagon!"

Everyone ran with him, and as they rounded the bend in the road he caught his first physical glimpse of her.

Hyur, dusty grey and green clothes. Tall, with a bow that rivaled her for height and three quivers for arrows, one at each hip and another against her back. Female, in this reincarnation, and just finishing with the fire she had started on the wagon. The Driver was dead, and as the others in his squad shouted her head came up. For a moment, her eyes met his and they were the most impossible, washed out hue of the bluest blue. 

Well, the eyes were always called the windows to the soul, and for good reason. Those eyes looked through him, and he almost staggered with the intensity behind them. And then they looked away. 

She was turning, tumbling over the burning crates to the chocobo that placidly waited for her to take a knife to the sides of it's saddle before it was free and she and was riding it bareback through the woods. 

He slowed, watching the way grass sprang back up as if it had never been stepped on, and had a feeling he knew just why she was impossible to track through natural settings.

"Put the fires out!" 

The barked out order passed over him, spurring the others into action as he plodded to the edge of the road that she had ridden the chocobo off of. Settling into a crouch, he idly smoothed his hand through the grass even as that dancing flicker of blue stilled and then started to make her way back much slower. Of course, he thought to himself. Save the bird, kill the people. She was coming back to finish the job, now that they were slower. It was likely that she was going to use that to pick them off over the last two malms before they reached the other edge of the forest. 

Nothing for it, then.

"Sir." He pushed himself up and made his way to the Duplicarius, saluting briskly. "I would like to volunteer to stay behind and buy you the time you will need to get the shipment out. There's a very good chance that the Wraith will come back with how slow we will be forced to move."

"Solus, the Wraith will kill you." 

"This shipment is more important than my life, Sir. The Enemy uses a compound longbow with an average range of anywhere from thirty to three hundred fulms, and the only other weapons I saw on them was a boot knife. You can't use a bow like that mounted, so she will be forced to return on foot. If I can ambush her, 'tis a very good possibility that I can drive her off."

"Take Renditious with you, then."

Solus saluted once more. "Sir, with all due respect, you will need everyone you can get to push the wagon -and- guard it in the event that I fail. 'Tis nearly a bell and a half I must buy for you, but if our people need the supplies desperately enough to send a squad through the Wraith's territory with the hope they might be occupied elsewhere, then 'tis the honour of Solus oen Galvus to die for such a cause."

"You're a smart man, Solus, I trust that you have some plan in mind. Consider this your trial by fire. I expect to see you on the other side." Regulus watched him, and so he saluted once more and turned to start shedding the heavier pieces of his armor. It wasn't hard. It was just chain mail over a padded jerkin. Behind him, he heard the others start to grunt and strain as they got the doused wagon rolling, muttered curses and encouraging 'put your backs into it!' barely audible over the creak and rumble of the wagon's wheels. 

Helmet in place, he hefted his sword and shield and stepped out into the woods, ever conscious of the way the dancing, flickering impossible blue drew near. 

* * *

The last time she had spoken directly to him, she had been a duskwight male malms underground. He remembered the way he had smiled at him as he said his goodbyes. It didn't matter that the Ascian had been in the form of a subterranean riding lizard, in fact it had been easier for him because while he couldn't talk to him like that, he had told him _everything_. From how the girls and, periodically, some boys chased him to the food shortage to the dreams and hopes of his coworkers. He had been a farmer, after a fashion, grooming and growing mushrooms into specific shapes so that they could be harvested, petrified and used as furniture. 

He had never blamed the others for leaving. Some times he even thought about it himself. But there were people there, people who were suffering, and he couldn't just _leave_ them. No, only death or the exodus of the others would take him from his home. 

But that was neither here nor there. Now, she was once more female, and seemed to be caught off guard with how he was able to follow her despite the sixty fulm distance she tried to maintain between them. He _chased_ her, from an impossible distance, without footprints to follow and deflecting her arrows when needed. He knew she was getting frustrated when she started to actually _miss_, and once they were a good four hundred fulms from the road, he stopped. 

She immediately started to circle, determination condensing what was left of her soul, and as she started to get around him he drew a knife from his boot and pivoted, hurling it. She stopped, minor pain and bafflement spiking through her before she rapidly backpedaled. Good, he hadn't hit her anywhere vital, not that such was ever likely. For all that he was physically strong, sixty feet was something of a _distance_ for a dagger it had gone through a handful of leaves as well. 

It got her attention, though, and she circled back around the other way before coming to a stop once more. Contemplation coiled through her, and he pulled the sword from where he had stabbed it into the ground. 

"Come out, Wraith. I would like to speak with the slayer of countless Garleans."

Anger spiked through her, coupled with disbelief. He sighed, and held the sword up and then turned to lob it back the way he had come. Her disbelief deepened into full on confusion and bafflement.

"Come now, you need not even approach more than half the distance between us."

Curiosity tickled through her, and her confusion bled into caution as she slowly eased closer. He waited, arms folded and at length she crept around a tree some thirty fulms away, arrow nocked and drawn. They stared at each other for a long moment, and he drank in the sight of her. Dirt smudged, hood up, a mask covering the top half of her face. She had tucked his boot knife into her belt, and he slowly raised his hands. 

"You can't stop me." The words came from her, laced with bitterness as they broke the silence. 

"I would have to know your goals to agree or disagree beyond admitting that you are armed, I am not, and you would very likely shoot me before I manage to cross the distance. I simply wished to pose a question. If I may?" He kept his tone light, smiling slightly as her eyes narrowed.

"I have nothing to say to one of _them_."

"None of _them_ have ever likely sought to speak with you before. Oh, but I am doing this all backwards. You may call me Solus." One of his hands slowly lowered to tuck against his chest. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

No answer. She stared at him, as if trying to decide what to do with him even as confusion, curiosity and caution warred through her. 

"Hmm. Were you aware that the shipment that you attacked was full of medicines for the rampant sickness that is claiming lives across your little strip of woods?"

Still no answer, though the faintest flickers of guilt were starting to weave through her. With that, he knew she wasn't anywhere near the heartless pointless killer that reports painted her as. He lifted his chin slightly as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

"I didn't think you did. Would that someone had opened lines of communication to you before this..." He sighed, slowly lowering his hands so that he could slide his arm free of the shield and then slowly lean down so that he could lay it on the grass. He kept his tone soft, tinging it with sadness the longer he talked."That medicine would have gone to save a possible hundred, and your little fire damaged and ruined some one third of them. Children. Women. Men. Six out of the twelve of us assigned to guard and escort it are now dead, brief lives given in an attempt to ease the suffering of many. Your attack this day, has thus cost six willing to die and roughly thirty that now have no choice but to."

The guilt that coiled through her flared, before bitterness and caution drowned it out. 

"You're lying."

He made a face at that, rolling his eyes and straightening.

"I invite you to visit the outpost just beyond the border of your strip of forest and see for yourself."

"You just want me to leave the woods so that your _people_ can kill me." She shot the words back, tension steady on the bowstring even as her aim shifted to focus on his face.

"That... Is the last thing that I would want. And, for the record, I do not _lie_." 

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, before she sneered. 

"You don't want to actually _talk_, you're just here to stall me!"

"A little of column ey, a little of column be. I truly _do_ wish to speak with you. I want to understand what your motives are. I want to know what caused one incredible woman to take up a personal crusade against the Garlean Empire, moreso even than I want that medicine to reach the people it must."

Disbelief flooded her, the emotion rapidly flooded with bitterness and frustration. The wagon was far enough by then that even if she left now, it would reach the edge of the woods and would be within sight of the Outpost that could then reinforce them and drive her off. Her emotions coiled into anger, and she snarled as she _shot_ him.

* * *

Emet-Selch limped out of the woods, covered in dirt and grass and babying the three arrows that stuck out of him. One in the calf of his leg, one in the shoulder, and another between his ribs. -That- one had caused him some small concern, though it hadn't hit anything vital. He had broken one of her arms once he had gotten close enough to, however, and she had retreated after that. 

"Solus!" One of the guards hailed him as he drew closer to the walled compound, and he glanced up and then looked towards where the gate was opening and the Duplicarius assigned to his platoon ran out to meet him, drawing his arm over his shoulder and taking some of the weight off of his leg. "Report."

"I managed to break her arm, but by then she had already shot me in the leg. I could neither capture her nor kill her, Sir."

"You fought with the Wraith of the Woods and bought us the time needed to get the supplies here, thus fulfilling your duty. You say this Wraith is a girl?"

"No Sir. To define her simply by her gender and age would be a mistake. She is an incredible marksman, and underestimating her simply because she has a broken arm would be... A compete and utter catastrophe. Any cornered, wounded beast is all the more dangerous to pursue, as you have often made mention." He was eased onto a crate as a Medicus hustled over to start tending to his wounds.

"Well done boy. Good to know that someone listens when I speak." Regulus grinned at him, and the Ascian managed a smile in return even as the arrow in his calf was carefully, painfully eased out. 


	37. For the glory of Garlemald (pt 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of entirely non-consensual intercourse

He hadn't been looking. That was the only reason, he told himself, that she had been able to sneak up on him. 

As Solus, he had been very carefully nursing his wounds like the good little soldier and acting oblivious to the rumours that had started to spread. That he had managed to defeat the Wraith of the Woods, that he had bravely volunteered to stay behind, that he had learned some secret that would turn aside arrows. He'd only had to start one of them himself before the others surfaced. 

Even as he healed, he carefully exercised and maintained himself, sometimes in the company of others, sometimes on his own. He had claimed a little patch of wall to hook his injured leg behind his good one, made sure the arm that was tucked into a sling was stable, and otherwise used the flat surface for one-armed, diagonal push ups. Nothing strenuous, he wasn't trying to show off, after all, but simply something to stretch the muscles he could and ensure he remained in 'top' form.

So when he had boredly, opened his senses to the aetheric and caught sight of that impossible, flickering dance of faded bluest blue not six feet from him, he had startled and almost face planted into the wall as he twisted to stare and _slipped_. 

She watched him, leaned up against the side of the building with her arms crossed. Dressed as a Garlean scout, he wouldn't have known her from any of the others save for his senses and the piercing, blue eyes that stared at him, stared through him, and pinned him to the wall. He swallowed, slowly taking his time to right himself and lean just as casually back as she was against the flat surface he had mushed himself against. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, and he noted the guilt that twisted through her, coupled with bitterness and caution.

"... Well now. This... Is a surprise." A brief check noted that they were largely alone, save for a few people in the building she was leaning against. He tilted his head to the side as she remained silent, and continued. "Here to take me up on my invitation?" 

"There's every chance that I came here to finish the job." Her eyes narrowed, though she remained otherwise where she was. "Not calling for the alarum to sound?"

"If you meant to, you would have killed me when my back was turned. I can only draw from such that you are, instead, hoping against hope that I was wrong and thus give you a reason to do so." He pushed away from the wall, limping slightly even as he turned to start heading into the compound. "I will show you. Follow or do not, I need to change the bandages about my ribs regardless." 

She did, at a short distance. He didn't even have to watch her to know that she was blending in rather well. Nobody became surprised, and they made their way uncontested through to the large tent that had been set up outside of the main medical building. He made it a point to speak with some of the civilians that had come for the medicine, easily sliding any praise aside to those brave souls that had pushed the wagon the last few malms.

He only felt a _little_ bad at how the guilt within her grew. It was flu season in the area, after all, and plenty of people were sick. He obligingly remained still as a Medicus changed the bandages across his side, and watched as she drifted through the crowd and spoke with random individuals to confirm what she had told him. It was amusing, how much she cared for those feeble, frail creatures. 

At length, his shirt was rolled back down and he was told to return before he retired for the evening to have them checked again. Nodding, he tucked his arm back into the sling and made his way towards one of the towers so that he could climb the stairs and find an unattended patch of wall. She followed, after a few minutes, and found him leaning against the crenelation. 

They stood there in silence for several long moments, before she moved to lean and stare out at the forest, much the same as he was. 

"... You were right."

"I told you, I don't lie. 'Tis something of a point of pride for me."

She scoffed quietly, and he glanced over to physically watch her for a moment. She was favouring her arm, which meant that it hadn't magically healed over the last few days. If he looked hard enough, he could see that it was braced under the sleeve to keep it straight, though it must have hurt quite a bit. A flick of his eyes down noted the concealed shape of his knife tucked into her boot. 

"You know, should you ask _nicely_, I might be convinced to deliver some medical supplies to the edge of the woods for you."

Irritation, incredulity and bitterness coiled through her, and she settled one hand on her broken forearm.

"I killed six of your friends."

"No, you killed six people in the squad I was assigned to. And the driver."

She stared at him at that, jaw hanging slightly open as he sighed. 

"Oh -please-, don't look at me like that. There are very few of what you might consider 'good' people within the military. Merely countless fools seeking one goal or another, be it glory or gil."

"They were still _people_. Your people." She was confused, trying to reconcile his words with the ones he had thrown at her. 

The Ascian lifted his good hand, waving it idly. "What they are, is dead. Their duty fulfilled when the shipment reached the outpost where it could be handed out to those that needed it. Two of them were well known for their brutality and one of them was recruited from the criminals that were captured some few weeks ago. Every individual in that squad had been marked as expendable in one way or another."

"Even you?"

"Especially me. Many of my current superiors feel I am too clever by half, and dislike my growing popularity. Truly, I must thank you. By comparison, you have made me look like an _angel_." He shifted as she stepped in close, growling under her breath. 

"You... You _used_ me."

"_I_ did not start the rumours that I had defeated you or learned some trick to turn aside your arrows. 'Tis a happy little bonus, to make my goal easier to attain." The Ascian turned to face her properly. "You and I fought, we failed to kill each other and the current situation is a direct result. I know my reasons for disliking those I was assigned to guard the supplies with, but what were yours?"

She stared at him, and he delighted in the minute twitches of the muscles in her face even as he enjoyed the roiling lightshow of her emotions. Gritting her teeth, she looked back out towards the woods. 

"I'm leaving." She announced, before she turned and made her way along the wall, back to the tower. 

He watched her go, a small smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

* * *

It was easy enough to break out of his rooms. Even without magic, all he did was make sure his wounds were properly bound and opened the window. It was a ground floor room, and the routine of the place made it easy for him to time when he would leave and when he should be back by. The hard part wasn't even getting over the wall, which was simply a (slightly limped) stroll up the stairs and then a mildly painful climb down. No, the hardest part was crossing the expanse between the outpost and the woods. The Garleans had been _very_ thorough, when it came to denying their foes cover, and they knew that darkness was when the Wraith liked to test their defenses. 

It was a patient game, and he made it without too much trouble. 

He had been able to feel her at the edge of the woods, watching, sullen and bitter as she waited for her arm to heal. She was plotting, planning, and he found himself smirking every time that thread of guilt flared within her. It never lasted very long. Still, he had barely gone a dozen fulms when he sensed her approach. She kept a distance until he was a good hundred fulms into the woods, at which point she circled around him a few times. He found a root, sat down, and started to unload his pockets and his sling. 

A bottle of (sadly) cheap wine. A wrapped bundle of assorted breaded chicken parts that had been baked. A trio of stuffed green peppers and a single potion. A lantern, that he took a moment to carefully light and then hang off of one of the nearby branches.

She approached, baffled and curious and cautious. 

"Well now, Wraith. So good of you to join me." He smiled, and pulled the helmet from his head, setting it aside and raking a hand back through his hair. 

"Bold of you, to come into my woods injured."

"I am sometimes a very bold individual." He shot her a smile, and she narrowed her eyes at him as he continued. "I like to think that after all we have been through, that you wouldn't kill me immediately. Would you care for a stuffed pepper?"

"You've probably poisoned it."

"Oh for the love of..." Rolling his eyes, he picked up one of the stuffed peppers and stuffed it against his face, taking as big of a bite as he could before holding it to show that he had done so, chewing as he did. Setting it aside, he picked up the bottle, tucked it between his knees and worked the cork out so that he could then take a swig. 

"... I don't understand you." She leaned against the tree, staring at him as if he was a puzzle that refused to give up it's secrets. 

"'Tis not all that complicated, I'm afraid. You have something that you surely must want. I wish to learn what that thing is. If at all possible, should our goals align as I have the sneaking suspicion that they might, I would then seek to work with you. Oh, naturally, there would have to be compromise on both sides, however this is not something that I believe impossible." He set the bottle aside, picking up the other pepper and taking a bite from it. He set it down next to the other he had bitten, watching her as he chewed.

She was still staring at him, but after a moment she stepped forward and leaned to pick up the second pepper he had taken a bite out of, glancing at it to inspect what it had been stuffed with. Breading, onion, bits of venison and a handful of herbs and spices were the answer, and she cautiously nibbled at it. 

"... What's this goal then, Garlean. My head?"

"What? No. I will rise through the ranks, name myself Emperor and change this nation for the better. Mine is a nigh inhospitable land. The people despair and suffer. I would go forth, rule, and conquer, forging a nation of military might that will prosper."

She scoffed at that, before reaching out to snatch the wine from him and take a sip. 

"I thought you were the craziest Garlean I'd ever seen. Now I know that for a fact."

"Your opinion is noted. What of yourself? I meant what I said before, about wondering after the reason for your one-woman crusade." Opening the bundle of breaded chicken bits, he started to randomly go through them and take a bite of each one, watching her watch him as she weighed her options.

"... My family's lived in these woods for generations. One of your precious Legatus didn't like us, and killed my father. I swore that I'd kill him, if I ever saw him." She narrowed her eyes, reluctantly relinquishing the bottle as he tugged on it so that he could take a swig. "One day, you Garleans will send him to me, even if I have to kill every one of you bastards I find to get them to finally send someone of that rank."

"Hmm. Any distinguishing features?"

"So you can warn him?" She scowled, stepping away and taking another nibble of her food. 

"-Please-, no, so that I can hasten the process."

She almost dropped the stuffed pepper, and stared at him for a long moment as he quirked a brow and offered out the wine. 

"You're... You're _lying_."

"I already told you, Wraith. I don't lie. I see an _opportunity_ here. Certainly, I could fulfill my goals quite easily without your assistance, but you are an _incredible_ marksman. The process would go much quicker with your aid."

"There's more to it. You're... You're _evil_. You don't value people's lives-"

"Neither do you, it would seem. Instead of killing your target, you have simply ended the countless Garleans that traveled through these woods." He quirked a brow and smirked as he brushed some of his hair out of his face. It was down past his chin, that singular white streak standing out even as he tucked it behind one ear. "Help me. Play the game with me. You are _special_. I won't ask why. I won't ask how. Those secrets are your own, so long as you understand that the same courtesy must be applied to myself as well. All that I ask, is that you help me rebuild this nation."

"Or don't." He shrugged, leaning down to pick up the healing potion, offering it out. "With or without you, I _will_ succeed. 'Tis only your assistance that will determine which type of empire Garlemald will become."

She stared at him wordlessly for a long moment, eyes drifting between the potion and his face. 

"... Dominic van Drusus."

He quirked a brow, matching the name with a face. "Give me two months, and he will walk into these woods with no more than an armed escort of four."

"You're not going to ask me to stop killing Garleans?"

"-Please-. To do so would only be to rouse their suspicion."

She narrowed her eyes, before reaching out to take the potion.

* * *

He would kick himself for decades over how he had almost failed to meet his deadline. 

Over the course of two months he had worked his way up from an oen to a pyr, and now had a small unit of his own. He'd even gotten to hand pick them from the recruits, and while some questioned his choices he had been looking for loyalty above all else. They could be trained and taught to perform better, but loyalty was a rare quality in and of itself. 

Between training, strategy, scouring old reports and his promotion he ever so subtly and carefully worked word through the system. The Wraith was getting sloppy. All that was left was for someone to swoop in for an 'easy kill' and take all the glory. The Ascian had very carefully also dropped a smattering of rumours that the Wraith was a barely grown girl-child that wailed about revenge for wrongs done to her _mother_. 

At the very last moment, the Legatus had taken the bait and had shown up. He promptly offered his services, considering he had gotten to 'know the area fairly well', and was waved away as van Drusus scoffed and made mention of not needing the 'little people to put down some upstart welp'. They left shortly after lunch on the very last day of the second month. 

Dominic was a large brute of a Garlean who favoured a large, heavy bladed two handed sword. He made arrangements with his unit for them to cover for him before he left. He wouldn't miss the upcoming fight for the _star._

Hitting the woods, he was surprised to note that she circled around the Legatus and headed towards him. Humming quietly to himself, he ambled along to meet her and blinked as she dropped out of the trees in front of him. 

"One Legatus and no more than four guards. Two months, as promised." 

"_Why_."

He blinked at her, noting the determination and fire in her eyes and feeling his lips pull into a smirk as they were mirrored by the inferno of hate that was her soul. 

"Because anyone that should dare to kill a woman's husband as he rapes her deserves to die." 

She stiffened at that, paling under the mask. "I never... I never told you that."

"No. But once I had his name, t'was easy enough to dig through the reports and find out why. Your father refused to sell the produce of his orchards to the Legatus, because Dominic refused to pay a proper price for 'non Garlean goods'. Van Drusus went to collect in person, and things escalated. While it was never explicitly reported that he took your mother, you have similar facial features and the same colour hair as he does while your mother and her husband were both brunettes." 

She stared at him, silent, jaw working slightly before she lowered her gaze and nodded. 

"... She... Doesn't have a lot of time left. Even the medicine I stole isn't doing more than slowing down the sickness." Guilt briefly curled through her, and she flinched as he stepped in and tucked a hand against her cheek. 

"Well then. No time to waist for your little Hunt now, is there."

She swallowed dryly, before the bitter hate once more filled her eyes and she nodded. 

* * *

The Ascian hung back. He didn't want to interfere if he could help it, and they were almost to the unused turnoff from the main road that would lead to the expansive, now wild and largely untamed orchard. 

She took out the guards at the back, one almost before the other had even hit the ground. It was a powerful bow she wielded, punching arrows through the armored backs and a third through the eye of the one that had survived the first volley before she was off, bolting away. One of the guards in the front was the next to fall as the three remaining looked around and settled themselves defensively, an arrow punching through the shield and nailing it to his chest before he looked up and caught just under the chin. 

The remaining guard turned and fled. She let him go, focused only on the man she had hated from the moment she had been born. He didn't bother to intercept the poor bastard, though he did keep tabs on him in case he decided to circle back. He was going the wrong way to head back to the outpost, after all. 

The next arrow came for van Drusus, and he turned to put the flat of the sword in the way and bolted along the path it had come from, hoping to hunt her down. He felt he should have expected as much from a Legatus, but at the end of the day... Well, he was only a _man_. 

And even less than half the person she could have been, the Wraith was _determined_. 

She wore him down slowly, saving her bodkins for when she could get a clear shot even as she danced through the woods around him. There was a methodical tempo as she crippled first one arm, then one leg over the course of several shots. He tore the arrows out, but all that did was prompt her to fill the holes with more. 

He was cursing, swearing up a storm and promising a number of horrific endings for her when he finally caught her. She took them with nothing more than silent amusement, catching him between the ribs with another bodkin that punched through the jack of plates and drew a roar of frustration from him. She didn't close the gap until he was on his hands and knees, wheezing around the arrow points in his lungs and looking like some odd manner of quilled beast with how many arrows had bloomed from the gaps in his armor. 

She stepped out of the forest in front of him, and as his head came up to stare at her she _smiled_. 

"Dominic van Drusus." The name rolled off her tongue in a sing-song manner, and her smile grew into a crooked grin as he coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. "I've thought a lot about this moment. I've waited for it for as long as I can remember."

He wheezed out a chuckle, holding one hand out to he side for balance as he got his good leg under him and hauled himself up. "I'd always wondered if I'd whelped the bitch. Looks like... Looks like I did. And look at you now."

"Yes. Look at me. I want to see what your face looks like when I put an arrow into your _brain_." Almost idly, she drew an arrow from the dwindling supply at her hip and set it against the bow, slowly drawing the string back to nock it into place. 

"You can kill me here, Girl, but I live on in you." He watched her, even as he pressed a hand against his side to staunch one of the many holes he was bleeding from. "Go on then. Take up my legacy of bloodshed."

She paused, blinking at him before laughing. 

"Oh _please_, you think it's your blood that's led to this? I grew up killing anything and everything I could. I learned from the wolves the joy of the hunt and from the hawks the thrill of the moment where you close in on your prey. Because that's all you are. Just a two-legged sack of _meat_ that will water the trees with your blood and feed the grass with your corpse. If you were hoping to make me balk, to make me think twice about killing you to make myself the _better person_, then I've got news for you." Drawing herself up, she leveled the bow and aimed the arrow at his face. "I am the daughter of Olivia and Eddard Thorne, who hunted these lands and tended to our orchards for a hundred years. And you? You _killed my father _before I could even meet him."

"I am your father." He grinned at her, and she returned it crookedly.

"No your not. You're _mulch_."

She let go of her hold on the arrow, of the bowstring, and it sang through the twenty fulms between them before burying itself through his eye and into his brain.

* * *

He helped her drag the corpse through the woods. It was a long, silent trek save for the periodic grunts of effort as they heaved him over a ridge or bundle of roots. It took them almost an hour to get him to the run down, ramshackle farmstead. From there, they hauled him onto the rickety porch before she waved at him to wait there and eased the door open. 

"... Mom?"

Coughing answered her, and she padded further in. Ignoring the muffled voices, he instead reached out to watch their aether, blinking as he noted that one of the souls was far duller than the other, clearly dying. How long, he wondered, had that poor soul held on? 

He didn't bother to ask. there wasn't much time left, anyways. The Wraith helped her mother to the door, and together they looked down on the corpse before Olivia Thorne squared her shoulders and nodded towards the rocking chair. Once she had been settled in, she idly pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders and shivered. 

"Go on. There. The bonfire." 

The Wraith nodded, before hauling on the corpses arm and dragging it down off the porch. He went to help but she shook her head and silently continued on her own, leaving him to nod and idly lean against the support for the porch roof.

"... You're the boy she talked about."

"I should be pleased that she would think so highly of me to do so." Turning slightly, he offered the dying woman a polite bow. 

"No, you shouldn't. Not a lot of nice things said there." A crooked grin was offered to him as he straightened, before Olivia was watching as her daughter disappeared into the barn. "She says you're mad, with a mad dream. Just as fever-mad as she is."

"I hope to have her help with that." Leaning back against the post once more, he froze as Olivia tisked and spoke. 

"You don't need it. Death hangs about you like a cloak, boy. You just want her on hand because you love her."

"She only met me a few months ago, Madam. I assure you-"

"Maybe, but you met her long before that, didn't you boy." The dying woman broke out into a fit of coughing, even as the Wraith dragged out a burlap tarp loaded with wood and started piling it around the body. As the coughing eased, he stepped closer and studied her intently. 

"Oh, don't be like that boy. I know. The birds know. And you, you know too. Everything gets reborn. I felt the same thing for my Eddard when our eyes first met. Like lightning through my blood. She hesitated when she was burning the wagon, when she saw you." Waving her hand, Olivia settled back into the chair and watched her daughter laying out kindling. "You take care of her, boy. You take care of her or else in my next life, I'll find you and make you pay for her sadness. Take her away from this place. Give her the life she refused to live, and make her live it."

He was silent for a moment as the Wraith lit the pyre, and the flickering firelight was reflected in Olivia's tired hazel eyes as they watched it burn. 

"... I promise. You would be most welcome to _try_ otherwise."

"Good." 

Her daughter joined them, turning to sit on the edge of the porch and watch the fire.

* * *

She buried her mother in the morning, and took everything that she considered hers from the run down building. 

He waited for her, at the edge of the woods. 

They left, together.


	38. I got it

There were fae folk _everywhere_. A bubble of water surrounded the building, provided by the fuath that were hidden by the faeries that flit about near by. Several nu mou patrolled the perimeter, looking solemn and sad as she passed through them and then stepped through the rounded wall of water. Emet-Selch waded through after her.

Carefully, cautiously, she pushed the doors open and poked her head into the building. It was dark, though that didn't truly bother either of them as they carefully stepped around the barely visible piles of books and papers that were scattered around. Both blades sheathed, the Warrior made her way to the stairs and paused, a sense of _listening_ filling the room. 

She eased herself to the left, and made her way quietly upstairs. He would never understand how she was able to move so quietly with metal capped footwear, but resigned himself to drifting through the air with his shield partial raised and his sword sheathed. He followed her up the stairs, briefly searching through the aether to locate the confused, suffering soul that was upstairs. 

Emet-Selch considered speaking to tell her where the elezen was, but he had a feeling that he didn't need to. She reached the top of the stairs and then hung a hard left, stepping softly down the hallway and quietly, politely, knocking on the door. 

"Urianger...?" 

He felt the soul in the room flinch. Anger flashed through the astrologer, but it was swiftly drowned by panic and horror. 

"Hey buddy. I'm coming in, okay?" She touched the doorknob, and was throw back against the wall as electrical aether was discharged. Sliding down to the floor, she took a moment to blink at it and cleared her throat. "... Ow."

"He has something in his grasp." The Ascian stared at the wall, eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the size and shape from the aether that was curling through it. "A flanged rod of some kind? Light aspected aether, with hints of... Auracite?"

"Right." Pushing herself up, she brushed herself off and reached out to pat his shoulder. "Two ways this can go. I go in and try and be nice, and see if I can convince him to hand what I -think- what he's got over, or. Or. We both rush him and beat him unconscious and one of us soaks at least one attack. Confirmation on being tempered?"

"You can check yourself, you know." He quirked a brow at her, and she blinked before ohing quietly. "You forgot."

"Iii forgot. To be fair it's not that I forgot that the mask does it, and more forgot that it works on more than just you, 'cause y'know. I mostly use it for looking at you." She cleared her throat sheepishly before reaching up to run a finger along her mask. Her eyes vanished behind the black fields that manifested, and she turned her face towards Urianger's bedroom. "Alright. Well. Green and yellow? No, that's not quite right. Emerald and gold and... Tan. That's a tan-ish sorta crumble around him. Like a... A gold-ish tan. Great. So what did that part look like before?" 

"I may perceive things a little differently than you, little Monster."

She grimaced. "Okay. Worry about that later then. So. What do you think of the plans?"

"How successful have you found yourself, in your efforts to convince someone who has been tempered to give you something." He folded his arms, quirking his other brow so that they both were level with his Garlean third eye. 

"Plan be then."

He swept into a bow towards the door, and she rolled her eyes before lining herself up and taking a slow, deep breath. Nodding to herself, she took two running steps and leapt, right into the void portal that bloomed in front of her. He stepped in after, swinging himself around and to the side as he exited into the room. 

It had opened up behind Urianger, but as she crossed the distance he snapped his gaze around and lashed out with the rod. It connected, with a spark of light aspected aether that had her collapsing to the ground with a grunt before he could step up and hammer outwards with the shield. The elezen staggered, and he followed so that he could snap a hand up and catch the rod, hauling back and shoving forward with the shield to separate Urianger from it and press the astrologian against the wall. 

A card came up, and bounced off of his armor before he rolled his eyes and reversed his hold on the scepter, bringing the handle across the elezen's temple so that he crumpled and then slid down the wall. 

"Well then. Easy enough, little Mons-" He paused, turning to stare at the unmoving body of the Warrior and then at the rod. 

* * *

"Ahh, good, you woke up." 

Emet-Selch idly watched as Urianger groggily peered around the room, taking in the fact that he was upside down. A slight shift sent him slowly rotating, and he slowly glanced up along the length of his bound body to the rafter where the rope he was tied with had been secured. Several candles had been lit, and he squinted as he was prodded and rotated back to properly face the Ascian. 

"You know, she would be _ever_ so cross with me if I was to hurt you without reason. But then again, you _did_ just essentially put her into a _coma_. Brief as it will be. You simply have... Poor timing." Using the rod, he idly poked and prodded the elezen as he started to pace around him. "You could not have _known_ how loose the tether between her soul and her body currently is. I suppose I should show _some_ leniency. 'Tis hardly your fault, after all."

"Is dy purpose do queshin de craffssmanshib of de rod, or do-"

"Ah, if I may stop you there." He moved to sit down on the stairs, stretching his legs out and watching as Urianger tried to turn to watch him. "I have already discerned what, exactly, it is that the rod does and have already completed the necessary steps to ensure her complete recovery. Shoddy worksmanship as this _is_, 'tis simply a product of your limited understanding of aetherology. This is designed to disrupt the Echo, but the light aspected aether it utilizes to still such a thing was remarkably effective against her, burdened still by the Lightwarden essence as she is. Such reacted, and you rather completely stilled her. Fortunately for all parties involved, I am more than passingly familiar with Black Rose, which hosts a variety of similar issues. Do you know what the cure is?"

Urianger narrowed his eyes as his gaze was slowly swept across the room, still spinning gently. 

"_Me_. Darkness-based aether. To counter and cause a reaction, would cause such for her to become 'active' and mobile once more. A drop of chaos in an ocean of order. Naturally, I could administer such to her immediately if it were not for one, teeny detail." Flourishing the rod once more, Emet-Selch stood up and turned, starting to head back upstairs. He paused on the third step, glancing back. "The sudden stilling of her Aether caused her Echo Pulse to activate. However, due to the properties of the Rod, it _misfired_. And, loosely rooted as her soul was to her corporeal form, the attempted return sent her _elsewhere_. I tell you this, so that when you have been returned to your senses, you will understand how badly you have erred." 

Shaking his head slowly, the Ascian resumed his path up the stairs.

* * *

_<<My child, I had feared the worst.>>_

"Look, I dunno what happened. One moment I'm charging Urianger 'cause he's been tempered, the next I'm drifting and dunno who I am, and now I'm here." The Warrior drifted before the Mothercrystal, poking her fingers together and looking sheepish. "Don't suppose you might know how that happened, do you?"

_<<Thy blessing hath been damaged. Thus did I lift thou from the Lifestream before thy next reincarnation. There is no time, left to us in this.>>_

"That's... not good. Oh yeah! So I've got an idea. First though, would the Lightwarden aether I've got help you any? I mean it might not be more than a drop in the bucket for you but every bit helps, right?"

_<<Thou wishes to offer the light aspected aether thou carries?>>_

"Happily. Its getting to be a hell of a hassle." The Warrior smiled easily. "But, in return, I want a history lesson alright? Your Sundering ability. I should say ours, shouldn't I. From Persephone it was the division of cells, i remember that much. Its the way plants -grow- just applied to the unwilling. And your enervation, that's originally from how plants roots draw up water and nutrients, draining them from the soil and causing the need for fertilization isn't it."

The Mothercrystal rotated soundlessly for a long moment, but a feeling of peaceful sadness washed over her. She chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Alright. I understand a little better now. I know, us mortals have a hard time of it sometimes. Important question though, if I can find a way ln my own, to get enough oomph behind my cutting ability, could i do what you did to Ifrit and Titan and Garudas essence when they were in Ultima? Could I sunder the souls inside Zodiark safely out into another container or vessel?" 

_<<Yes.> >_

That one word held depthless longing, and the Warrior nodded even as she threw her arms wide. 

"Take the Lightwardens essence, and teach me."

* * *

"I got it."

The Ascian blinked at the Warrior as she abruptly sat up. He had been slowly tracing the ever so faint tether between the soul and the body before she abruptly came surging back. A quick study of her soul revealed a surprising lack of the excess Lightwarden essence, though the echo that had orbited her core was still stationary.

"Well now. Imagine my surprise. However did you manage to return on your own?" Idly rolling the rod in his hands, Emet-Selch tilted his head to the side and quirked a brow at how she grimaced.

"Hydaelyn strained me from the Lifestream like so much left over food that shouldn't be washed down the sink." She rolled a shoulder - the one that was more scarred than the other, he noted - before looking over at him. "But seriously. I -got- it. Wheres Urianger? Also, is there any way I can channel the ridiculous amount of aether you've got?"

"An odd request. 'Tis not unheard of, to channel a spell together, however you lack the ability to cast." He frowned, not expecting the odd request and moving to stand up and approach the bed from where he had been seated in the armchair across the room. 

"Sort of. Its more that all of my casting ability is just plugged into a hand span of very important things instead. Like my Echo. Like my cutting ability. And because these things are sort of usually constant, and more important, it doesn't leave much room for casting fire or blizzard or the like. Trying to draw on outside stuff usually just channels into fueling what's owed for the Echo to reduce the drain on Hydaelyn, which is why before I got the crystals she sent me out chasing it took me so long to recover." She shifted to the side, getting off the bed and stretching. "To that end, I'm going to need your help. I need -you-. You and your wonderful, vibrant soul and depthless well of aether until I can get to the other Scions. And practice."

"I'm not some -battery- that you can just _tap_-"

She stared at him, and for a moment his voice died in his throat with the intensity that he found there. 

"Hades, if I can get enough oomph and a big enough container, I can -cut the sleeping souls out of Zodiark and save them-. You're the most powerful person I know. But I have to practice it so that I'm not cutting -our- people into the wrong shaped bits. I -need- you."

He studied her for a moment, before smiling weakly, the expression faint and almost hopeless. "... You're going to need your Blessing too. Uriangers toy broke it, and if what you say is true we have not the time for it to recover on its own."

She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding, and smiled as he closed the last of the distance and wrapped his arms around her, her own coming up to loosely loop about his waist as he did. It was a delicate thing, gently threading the tiniest piece of his aether through her soul to the Blessing and then ever so carefully countering the lingering effects of the light aspected aether from the rod. "Thank's. So how does channeling your strength work?"

"Carefully." As he finished, the Ascian sighed and was only minorly irritated that he was already mentally trying to factor how much it would cost him, how much Sundering their people from Zodiark might cost him, and tried not to look like he had swallowed something incredibly bitter. "Little Monster, we will need to find alternate ways to... To -fuel- this in the long term. As much as I would like to say that I could single-handedly do this thing, I could not manage it in your fleeting lifetime."

"We'll need Elidibus. And every Ascian we can get our hands on. We'll free them all, get all the people we can across the shards, and work on the rejoining bits to put the Source back together later. Hey." She tipped her face up, shifting and stretching as he tilted his face down towards her and let their lips meet for a gentle kiss. "... It's going to be okay. The Scions will help. I _know_ they will. Stacked together they might only equal a tired and beaten up-you-, but every drop in the bucket helps. It's going to work. I can feel it."

"I certainly hope so, little Monster." Emet-Selch smiled grimly at her. 

She returned it with one of her own, filled with hope.

* * *

"Urianger. Your nose looks crooked." 

"Is brogen." He sullenly rotated where he was bound, and she came up to inspect him with a grimace. 

"How long was he hanging here? With a broken nose, isn't that bad?"

"I fed him a potion." The words came defensively from the Ascian as he folded his arms. "It fixed the worst of the internal damage. I may have neglected to set it beforehand, however."

"So it's gotta get broken again and reset. I'm okay with that. I owe him one, and I'm gunna enjoy paying that debt." The Warrior reached out to steady the upside down elezen, before glancing back at Emet-Selch. "Alright, so... Let me know when you're ready, I guess?"

He sighed, before reaching out towards her with one hand, eyes narrowing. "Combined casting is a _smidge_ different from what this requires. Simply begin your part and I shall do the rest."

Nodding, she turned back to Urianger and slid a finger along part of her mask. A brief moment of aetherical study, and she was tucking her fingers against the astrologian's chest, over his heart. For a moment, she was at a loss over what to do, before she ahh'd quietly and remembered some of what she had done before. 

It had required a strike. The Warrior had hit the Ascian from behind, as hard as she could, where she could see the tempering. So she curled her free hand into a fist, shifted her fingers a little to the side, and punched the elezen in the chest. It was... Weird, feeling aether flow through her. It felt more like she was a straw that it was being drawn through than anything else, but as she struck it surged through her and into Urianger, who's strained grunt turned into a pained hiss as she tried to delicately shell the earth-based aether off of his soul like the husk from a piece of corn.

She didn't have an auracite. She didn't need one, immune to tempering as she was. Instead, the Warrior pulled her hand back and brought with it the flecks of titan's gold aether with it, channeling them into the elemental crystal that fueled her blessing. Taking a moment to study the unconscious soul in front of her, she turned and beamed at Emet-Selch even as she gave him a thumbs up. 

"See? I told you we could do it." 

"Wait until he wakes up before you celebrate, little Monster. We have no proof that you didn't _miss_ beyond the raw shape of him." 

She winced at that, but nodded and looked back at the senseless elezen, tugging on the ropes somewhat and wondering how she might begin to untie him.

"I suppose we should fix his nose while he's out, considering I already hit him..."

* * *

"Thou art incredibly _reckless_ and horribly eager to attempt experimental procedures without practice." 

"Eh? What d'you mean! I totally practiced on Emet-Selch first. In Amaurot. And I got a run down on the basics, though most've that went over my head sadly. Lots of big words, technical terms like 'my-toesies' and 'prolifteration'." She beamed at the bed-ridden elezen, even as she offered out a cup of tea and sat on the edge, the Ascian in question huffing softly from where he tiredly sat in the chair with his head supported by one hand and offered a likely translation. 

"Mitosis and proliferation." 

"Yeah, exactly. That's what I said. 'Sides, aren't you always going on about how repeating things is key, 'cause that's how you work out the kinks?" She glanced between the two of them, getting a tolerant, if amused look in return from each. "I know how it feels like it should work, I _got_ it. I understood it on a level that I've got a good chance of repeating so long's I've got the time to focus and something to give me the extra oomph I don't normally have for casting. _But_, but, I did make sure to tell King not to break Titan's core so that I could practice on it, just in case, so that I can work on my part without having to always have someone at my shoulder fueling this." 

"If thou hath done so successfully before, what prompted the need to utilize yon Ascian's casting capacity for my own... Sundering, I suppose 'tis apt to call it."

"Ardbert. That's the, uhh, what do you call it. Bit that wasn't part of this round."

"Variable?" came the helpful answer from the idle, nearly dozing Emet-Selch. She snapped her fingers and pointed at him, nodding. 

"Yeah! Last time, it was the moment that he... Hm. Fused? To me. to my soul, and stabilized me. For a little bit after that time, I was stronger. It faded, but that initial rush was a thing."

"The problem, Urianger, is that for our plans to succeed she will need quite a bit more than what I am able to provide on my own." The Ascian shifted slightly, rousing and steepling his fingers on his lap. "The current plan is to lure the other Ascians, sundered and unsundered, into her presence and have her remove their tempering. Thus will we amass part of the strength we will require for the removal and rescue of the captive Amaurotine souls within each of Zodiark's fragments. If we can do this thing, rejoined or not he will be too weak and utterly lacking in support that he will be far easier to deal with. For this, we will also need the aid of the Scions."

"The thing is, and stay with me for this part, the Ascians are the only ones we know of that can freely go between the Shards. That means they're going to be the main bulk of what we've got for when we travel between them, and they'll have to find a way to drag me along. Shouldn't be -too- hard, considering uhh... I dunno who it was but one've them brought someone from the... Thirteenth was it? Someone saved from the void it became? I dunno exactly, not that important. The major bit is that it was done, which means they -can- do it, which means that we can use that to reinforce the way the Exarch did it if we need to and send all of you with me." She beamed, looking between the two in the room with her. One very carefully sipped his tea and the other massaged his temples. 

"Thy theory _is_ sound." Urianger eventually admitted, before looking over to Emet-Selch. "What of the Ardor? The rejoining of the Shards to the Source? Hath thy goal of restoring those souls that are caught in the natural cycle of reincarnation changed?" 

"-Please-, one major problem at a time. I have an eternity, after all, and with the way things currently stand it seems that Hydaelyn no longer sees me as too terrible a threat for the time being. Perhaps my optimistic, vain hope that compromise might be achieved has become somewhat realistic after all." 

"Yeah, we're still working on that one? But it's not like we've got nothing. It's just... More of what they were doing with hopefully fewer casualties. You're both loads smarter than I am. Maybe you should get together and hash it out too." The Warrior stretched, grunting as her back popped quietly and looking to Urianger. "Alright, so is the next step to smuggle you back to the camp, hope Thancred doesn't ask too many questions and pretend we were there the whole time?" 

"I think rest is in order. Both of us-" The elezen dipped his chin and then nodded towards the once more idly dozing Ascian to indicate them both. "-hath endured something neither of us are accustomed to."

"Yeeeah, and I get that, I really do, but we left the chick back at the camp. And you parked Eden here. They're gunna notice and wonder what the seven hells happened." She grimaced, scrubbing a hand across her face as the astrologian sighed softly. 

"I shall inform Thancred by way of linkpearl. The truth, I believe, should thusly suffice and for the trouble I hath caused you, I shall bear the brunt of his ire."

* * *

She stuck around for the first bit of the communication, before wincing at the patient, tired expression across Urianger's face that was coupled with a partial, lingering wince. Turning, the Warrior hustled over to Emet-Selch and roused him enough that she could hustle him out of the room and down the hall to the spare, and closed the door behind her. 

"... I didn't realize you'd be so tired after that. I'm sorry."

"Hmm? 'Tis not entirely that from which I find myself fatigued. I may have mentioned it before, but it _does_ take a little bit longer for us Ascians to recover our strength. And 'tis not such an easy feat for me to teleport us both from place to place, lacking Zodiark's blessing as I am." He let her guide him to the bed and start removing his armor, content to stand there and close his eyes. 

"I wondered about that. Was that really tied into your tempering?"

"Partially. It shared an elemental affinity, and thus reduced the cost of any such aligned spells while increasing the potency. My specialty has ever been the creation of things, not the transport of them, and such commonly used teleportation was all but unheard of before the Sundering." 

"Huh. But... Eschaton could do it, right?" She carefully stacked the metal plates to the side, before circling around and starting on the ties to his jack of plates, glancing up at his face as she did. 

"Correct, by invoking a form of Flow. Something your blind friend is familiar with. Yours was the completed method, however, where you could enter and exit freely, to our best guess. It made finding you something of a difficulty." Pale gold eyes closed, he missed the way she smiled at him and returned the kiss she pulled his head down for with one of his own and a sigh as she pushed the jack of plates off of his shoulders. It dropped to the ground behind him, sliding free of his arms. "There is also the fact that 'twas required that I not only fuel the bulk of your sundering attempt, but also neutralize the elemental aspect of my aether to allow you to utilize it properly. The conversion rate was... Just _terrible_."

"So... How would I help you recover faster? Feed you darkness-aspected aether? Void aether? Should I find someone that can open portals and let you eat whatever comes out?" 

"-Please-, simply time spent in a location rich with aether, and nothing more. Preferably one that is not diametrically opposed to my own element." He stepped to the side once she had helped him work off his shirt and pants, yawning and climbing onto the bed to stretch out. One of his arms sprawled out towards her in invitation, and she laughed even as she started to shed her belts and coat. 

"Here, let me get myself settled and then I'll be the pillow for the night, how's that sound? You did good. The least I can do is offer my sadly small boobs for a time." 

He huffed out a tiredly amused sound, but shifted over obligingly nonetheless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't sleep, clown'll eat me  
Every review I read, every single word you guys use to tell me your thoughts and opinions on this story fills me with hope and joy, and I love reading and re-reading every single one.  
I'm going to be honest and admit that it was a very sad thing that, when coupled with the sad feels I got from watching Emet-Selch get killed, prompted me to begin writing this. It was a death I could fix. It was a death I could, at least in my own heart and mind, correct.  
I'm humbled that all of you have stuck with me this far, and I look forward to continuing this journey with each and every one of you.  
-FR


	39. The little things in life

The Warrior woke slowly to the sound of soft snoring. Glancing down at the vessel that was draped partially over her, she couldn't help but shift the arm that wasn't pinned against the bed by his torso so that she could stroke along the side of his face. A faint ripple in the air nearby drew her attention, and she glanced over in amusement at the way Emet-Selch was staring down at his body with a mild look of disgust. 

"I wish there was something I could do about that. But aside from reshaping the entire nasal structure or a touch of sound-dampening aether, 'tis nothing to be done for it."

"Save your efforts. I find it kinda cute." She grinned at the way he mouthed the word 'cute' and folded his arms, trying to decide if that was good or not. "'Sides, I like your nose. Which, question for you, How much physical difference is there between Solus and the physical form you had at the start?"

"Little to none, beyond physical height. I ensured he would look close enough to what I wanted before he was even born and then watched over him to ensure he did not unfortunately die and waste my efforts before he was ready." Shrugging slightly, he drifted about the room and idly appeared to study random objects, and she got the feeling he was bored and just playing with the illusion. "'Tis the visage most comfortable for me, just as Lahabrea's was a blond with remarkably tiny eyebrows." 

"Oh yeah! Do all Ascian's have the pale gold eyes thing going on? Wait, didn't one of you have like... Blue hair and greenish eyes?" She squinted, before turning her gaze to the ceiling. Her hand shifted from the side of his vessel's face up into his hair and started idly petting through the soft strands.

"Igeyorhm. Some, not all. We determine our own physical features when we have a mind to. Many of us go with the general colour pallet of our own souls, simply because we can." Continuing his orbit around the room, he spent a moment blankly staring at the bookshelf before he moved on. 

"Why the white streak then?" 

"Hmm. Hythlodaeus had white hair, and I possessed the colour you see when I had a wish to. We traded, so to speak. He gained a dark streak, and I gained a light one. We tended to be otherwise indistinguishable." Reaching up, the illusion traced a finger along the shock of white hair, even as she did so on his vessel. "I fashioned a charm for him to hide his soul as I might in the event we might need to swap places."

"We were close then, all three of us." 

"And you and Lahabrea." 

"Wait, really?" She squinted over at him as he huffed a small sound of amusement. 

"Even before you were Eschaton. We had something of a... Competition, for you. Not that there was any doubt as to who would _win_, of course. Most of the time you seemed largely oblivious to either of our attempts to impress you. He had a certain zeal for creating horses, and would always parade them around for you." He appeared to be intently studying a blank section of wall at that point, and she grinned as she watched him. "Once he figured out that you enjoyed avians, he even stuck a pair of wings on some of them."

"And what did you do?"

He smirked, illusion turning to face her and lifting his chin. "While I was only truly able to match his efforts once I had achieved the title of Emet-Selch, I feel I quite out did him with the Hanging Gardens. I am not ashamed to admit that a great deal of the city was also rearranged to make room for sprawling, multi-tiered parks, although we always found our way back to a specific handful. I created spaces for you to grow things in."

"Hmm. I mean, horses are cool and Thancred _did_ say he preferred Lahabrea... Is it too late to change my mind?" 

She snickered and raised her hand as he shot her a withering glare. "Kidding, I'm kidding, I don't think I ever felt that way for him. None of the memories I've gotten ever gave me that feeling. It was always you, y'know? It was always 'I wonder if Hades will be there today', or in the sadder ones wondering if you were okay, even if I thought you were an idiot at the time." 

Mollified, the illusion huffed and folded his arms and looked away. "You had _better_ be. You are _my_ wife, not his."

"And you're my husband. The only one I'd ever marry, too, even without knowing it." Her grin eased into a smile, enjoying the little details he was putting effort into to make the illusion realistic and then snickering as it froze in place for a moment. She took it as a sign that he was flustered, which proved to be somewhat true as it vanished and the snoring stopped. It drew her attention, and she watched as the back of his neck turned red even as the arm draped across her torso tightened around her possessively. "My handsome, incredibly intelligent, fearsomely powerful husband. Who's supported me as often as his circumstances could allow, who has the most ridiculous, adorable, expressive eyebrows, the most durable heart that's withstood the test of time, and a strong enough soul that he could twist whatever Zodiark's tempering forced him to do into something that let him visit me through the ages as often as he could." 

Emet-Selch raised his head, swallowing slightly as he lifted his wide-eyed gaze to hers and looked somewhat shocked even as his face continued to redden. She ruffled his hair, beaming, and when he shifted up to indulge in a tender kiss she returned it with every onze of love she could.

* * *

Several hours later, the Warrior made her way down stairs with her hair damp from the recent bath and paused mid-stretch to take in the handful of faeries that all turned as one to stare at her. Some of them held books, others pieces of parchment, and all of them seemed very, very nervous all of a sudden. 

"Alright, playing pranks like this on him right now'd be like kicking someone while they're down, and that's not fun at all. You won't get anything out've him with this, just resignation and that's _boring_, innit." The faeries were exchanging glances, some of them murmuring something about her being right, and they all relaxed and started to drift closer. 

"Ohh, you'll play with us, won't you?"

"Sadly, no, but I'll tell you what. Urianger absolutely -hates- apple cinnamon tea. I bet he'd make the _funniest_ faces if you guys got some to him, and he's too polite to turn it away. Oh, and those biscuits that always fall apart in teas, he _hates_ those 'cause they always fall apart and make a mess." 

The faeries gathered together, whispering and muttering among themselves before dropping everything they were messing with and swarming out of the house, giggling and laughing.

"Should I be concerned with the ease lies pass between your lips?" 

"Eh? Nah. He could use a bit've pampering, is all, and the easiest way to get one of them to do something useful is to tell them the person they're doing it to hates it." Turning, she glanced back at where the Ascian was adjusting the straps of his shield. "Y'know, that reminds me. You rarely ever wear your mask nowadays."

"Considering this vessel may as well be a mask, it seems redundant to constantly wear multiple layers like that. Besides, I seem to recall _someone_ mentioning that they liked my 'ridiculous, adorable, expressive eyebrows'. Their words, not mine." He smirked at her, and she snickered back at him even as she waited for him to join her at the base of the stairs before they made for the door together. "What is the plan for today?"

"Hack Titan's core into itty bitty bits so I can make damn sure I'm able to chunk off only the pieces that I want to. I'm going to be going for as small of ones as I can, and between the two of us and King we should be able to take care of any manifestations that appear, if they do." Stepping out into the sunlight, she glanced around and then started to amble towards the lake, relieved to see that Eden hadn't wandered away overnight and seemed largely inert. "So. About a container to put souls into before we take them to Azys Lla. Any ideas?"

"'Tis something I am capable of. Or did you forget that I carried you from Hydaelyn back to your body? And Zenos to Azys Lla?" He finished the minute adjustments of his gear as they picked their way along the path, glancing around to keep track of their surroundings. 

"Oh yeah. Gunna be honest, I kinda did. You got a limit for that?"

"For what, the number? The distance? Such a _vague_ question." Emet-Selch quirked a brow at her, and she blinked blankly back at him even as she shrugged.

"Both, I guess. Does it work like the way the Lightwarden aether did for me?"

He huffed an amused sound at that, shaking his head. "No. I will not be in danger of turning into an _Amaurotine citizen_. I already _am_ one, after all. I carried the memories of their shades for countless eons and while I may no longer have such, 'tis the same concept and principle." 

"Right. But what if they're all awake instead of asleep like I'm sort of assuming they will be? Won't that be, I dunno, a bunch've voices in your head that'll be super distracting?" She frowned faintly, skipping ahead a few steps and turning so that she could amble backwards and look at him as they walked. 

"-Please-, it is quite _literally_ my job to awaken my brethren from their dark slumber. Let me be the one to worry about that aspect, and simply focus on removing them intact." He offered her a smirk, and she raised her hands defensively. 

"Alright, alright, I juuaagh!" 

The Ascian made his way to the ledge she had stepped backwards off of, and felt his smirk grow as she blinked up at him with a scowl. "Well now, falling for me all over again, are we?"

"You cheesy _assh__at_."

He laughed at that, before hopping down to offer a hand back up.

* * *

They spent most of the day practicing. Some times, smaller manifestations of Titan were created, other times she simply sheared off chunks of the crystal under the watchful eyes of Titania and Emet-Selch. By the end of it, she was reasonably consistent with the sizes and ability to choose if one manifested or not, with Feo Ul working in tandem to help provide the extra aether needed. The Ascian's job was, by and large, simply to cleave his sword through anything that spawned or aggravate it enough for the Warrior to get behind it and cleave her nasty blades through it. Everyone involved except for the powerful faerie helping them was dusty, dirty and sweaty by the end of it, and they ambled down to the water to strip down to their underclothes and wade in, enjoying the cool water as Feo Ul chatted away with the Warrior, gossiping freely and enjoying the story of a sylph that had posed as a hyur bard in Gridania. 

Emet-Selch enjoyed the water, utterly ignoring the glowing eyes that watched from a short distance away. _She_ couldn't drown, and none of them were powerful enough to do more than try and make him drift away from the relative safety that Titania's proximity provided. A simple aetheric tether to his wife had him safely anchored and free to doze idly in a dead-float.

By the time the sun was beginning to set she was belatedly mentioning that she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and though Feo Ul offered to send for food she respectfully declined and made mention that she liked making him cook for her. The words drew a noncommittal grunt form him as he found himself being towed towards the shore, and on cracking an eye open he glanced up to see her staring at him and backing up the bank, trying to see if she could drag him completely out of the water. After a moment's contemplation, he simply let her, and then dismissed the tether once he felt the sand against his back. 

"So, gotta ask, how did you do that?" 

"Do you recall the fight atop Eden? I simply tethered myself to you, instead of the edge of some platform. 'Twas my best bet in the event that you somehow managed to get swept away by some manner of current." Gathering up his gear, he debated how much he might need them on the walk back and settled for simply bundling everything up and tucking it under his arm. He quirked a brow as she finished sliding her boots on and started buckling both belts around her waist, adjusting her pants as she did. "Do you believe we might be attacked between here and the Bookman's Shelves?"

"Eh? Nah, but it wouldn't be the first time I've been ambushed by a nearly world-ending crisis when I didn't expect it. Plus, y'know, faeries. Last thing I need is for one of them to steal one of my swords again, and I've already somehow 'lost' two throwing knives since we got here." She lifted both hands to mark quotations in the air with her fingers around the word 'lost', and he took a moment to glance over his gear. Everything was still there, fortunately, and so he simply shrugged and floated a few inches into the air and re-tethered himself to her. 

"I shall simply have to keep an eye on my gear then. Shall we?" 

"You've done the line-thing again, haven't you." She squinted at him, before tucking her mask into place and wrapping the scarf around her neck as he dramatically pouted and then gave her his best innocent look. 

"Navigating the path on foot is so _exhausting_, little Monster. You don't mind, do you?" 

Throwing her arms up, the Warrior snickered and turned to start up the slope. 

"I -suppose- you've earned it. You did help a lot today, after all. C'mon then, let's see what food Urianger has for me to fail to cook until you get frustrated watching me and do it yourself."

He rolled his eyes, shifting in mid-air so that he could use the bundle of his gear as a pillow and watch the sky as he drifted along. 

"By your Twelve little Monster, I must say that I agree with the Scion's assessment that you should have nothing whatsoever to do with a _kitchen_."

* * *

It turned out Urianger had already made his way to the kitchen and put together a simple meal and was sitting at one of the tables sipping a cup of tea. Periodically, he grimaced horribly or made some overly dramatic sigh as one of the tea biscuits fell apart, drawing delighted giggles from the faeries that were hiding about the building. As they entered, he set down the teacup and set the book he was reading aside, inclining his head politely. 

"Thy return is most welcome."

"Thank's. Alright you guys! Everyone that's not one type of immortal or another or Urianger, out! Unless you want to listen to _math_ for an hour! Just think've all those horrible, terrible boring _numbers_ that just keep repeating, never changing! One, times one, is one, times one, is one..." A chorus of disgusted sounds and titters answered her, before the hidden crowd dispersed and fled. The Warrior beamed at the Ascian as he snapped his fingers, closing the door behind them. "Thank's, Architect."

"Only you would think to threaten those with a similar attention span with basic multiplication." Rolling his eyes, he drifted further into the room and dropped his gear onto an empty chair and then settled down into the one next to it. 

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" She grinned ambling over to the sandwiches that were set out in a pile on the table and pouring herself a cup of tea. She poured a second one and slid it over to him, before sitting down and leaning her chair back onto it's back legs. 

"How did the day's practice go? Thou left shortly before I rose, and were gone the entire day." The elezen watched the two of them, unphased by the Ascian's state of undress and instead politely waving towards the platter of sandwiches to offer it to him. 

"Went really well. Hacked Titan's core into pieces, went for a swim with the King, shared some stories, gossiped, forgot I needed to eat. The usual. Only surprising part was that nobody tried to drown me again."

"... _Again_?" The Ascian collected a sandwich and inspected it for a moment, brows furrowing. "What do you mean, _again_?"

"Well, when we had to get the crown from the Fuath to get into Titania's castle, they liked me so much they wanted me to stay and be one of them. So they flooded the chamber, ejected my friends out onto the banks and tried to drown me in the lake." She grinned, gesturing with the sandwich. "Was when Urianger finally admitted that he and water don't really _mix_. Remember that?"

The elezen simply sipped his tea, taking a great deal of interest in the page he had been on in his book as she continued.

"Anyways, Alisaie apparently kept diving back into the water, 'cause she got blessed by the Kojin and can breath water too, but she couldn't find me. I must've hit my head or something because I went from being in the chamber to waking up at the bottom of the lake. It was easy enough to cut myself free of the kelp and swim to the surface." Tale finished, the Warrior stuffed as much of the sandwich as she could into her mouth, chowing down contently. 

"Ahh, yes, I am passingly familiar with that moment. 'Twas from a time when I watched from afar. I took note of your retreat, you know, and pondered even then if diplomacy might be an option." The Ascian idly toed one of the raised legs of her chair, and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Don'chu dare."

"Well now, and you _wonder_ why Garleans call you a _Savage_. Look at you, talking with your mouth full." Blandly, he tucked the ball of his foot against the raised leg and pushed ever so slightly, reaching to snag his cup of tea and take a sip as she rapidly chewed and swallowed. "Ahh~, at least the elezen shows _some_ refinement..."

"Look, if you kick my chair over, you _become_ my next throne."

"Come now, little Monster. You of all people should know better than to threaten me with a good time. Besides, at the very least I know well enough to keep all four feet of the chair stable and grounded." He set down the cup as she squinted at him, a realization dawning on her. 

"There's more to it than that, isn't there." The chair thunked back down to all four feet, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. "That actually -bothers- you, doesn't it. Out of curiosity, why? I'm not tryin' to be confrontational or anything, I'm seriously curious."

Emet-Selch was quiet for a moment, studying her before he looked back to the sandwich in his off hand. 

"... As someone who has made their fair share of chairs, to use it thus _irks_ me on a personal level. To do what you have done, is to compromise the structural integrity and reduce the durability in the long term. You are effectively _ignoring_ the time and effort that went into the creation of such a thing, all but spitting on it."

She blinked at him, looked down at the chair, and then glanced over to Urianger. 

"Did you make this?"

The elezen nodded slowly. 

"Right. Sorry 'bout that. I'll try and work on that habit, and not do it any more. I think I mostly do it because of the sense of balancing it gives me, the slight rocking back and forth to keep it from thunking down and helps me focus." 

"Truly, that is why you do that?" The Ascian slowly glanced over, looking thoughtful as she nodded. 

"Best way I can explain it. I dunno if it's an inner ear thing, but it just _feels_ better. I'll try and curb it. I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I'm sorry." She offered him an apologetic smile, and he huffed before looking away. 

"I -suppose- I could design something to satisfy the urge. A modified version of the rocking chair, perhaps." Already the design was unfolding in his mind, comparing the different ways she tended to sit and what might be more or less comfortable. Perhaps simply a redesign of the joint for the back legs, so that it could double as one or the other...

"Aww, thank's. You don't have to, but if you did I'd be grateful." The Warrior scooted her chair in a little bit so that she was sitting properly at the table, resting her elbows on the flat surface. "I'm gunna try and work on that anyways though." 

"'Tis a poor excuse for an Architect that cannot build a comfortable _chair_, little Monster." Emet-Selch offered her a small smile, and she perked up and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suppose I better get to work on that 200 kudos benchmark.  
Bittersweet, about Garlean WoL and Solus?  
*cracks knuckles*  
You gots it, Boss!


	40. Comfortably numb (200 kudos milestone)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 Kudos milestone prompt!

The Emperor paced along the halls, part of his mind absorbed with the effort of keeping that damned blessing from waking back up. It was a delicate procedure, considering he had to actively, constantly shackle it, but so long as he didn't get too far away things would be alright. Servants and guards bowed and saluted as he stalked past, hands folded behind his back and his cloak trailing dramatically along behind him. 

He was going to be a_ -father-._

The thought tickled him, and made an inexplicably warm feeling spread through him even as it curled his lips upwards in an almost goofy smile. 

The air was almost festive, his good mood infectious and a bit of a skip in his step as he hummed to himself. Oh, but he had _plans_. The legislation he had demanded would be put into motion soon, allowing him to elevate his gorgeous, glorious wife from consort to empress. Their son - for such was the child's gender, he simply hadn't been able to resist checking and from there had subtly worked to make sure the baby would be healthy and, most importantly, genetically Garlean - would be a powerful individual in his own right once he was grown, which would take almost no time at all. She would teach him how to use a gun, he would teach the child swordplay, together they would teach the child how to defend himself in the wilds just as well as he could in the courts. 

When she had told him, grinning, that she had missed her monthly bleed not once, but -twice-, that she was gravid with his child, he had been able to forget the horrors of the past and play the game _properly_, living vicariously. Which reminded him... 

Two angry souls, trying to sneak in through the window upstairs. He hung a left, navigated his way to the stairs and almost casually drew his sword. Taking them two at a time, he met the intruders as they rolled in through a window and paying just as much attention to the startled shout of one of them as he did the sword that clattered against his breastplate. Which was to say, none. The first of them fell, gurgling as he took out the throat and then caught the second one by the back of the shirt and bodily threw him out of the window. Leaning out, he even waved as the intruder plummeted four floors and hit the ground with a crunch. 

Continuing to hum, Solus leaned down and wiped his blade clean on the first assailant's sleeve only to straighten and resume practically skipping along, sheathing the now-clean blade as he went. A brief check confirmed that everyone else was someone loyal to him, and made for the nearest one to inform them of the mess. They saluted (it was one of his hand-picked, loyal guards after all) and went to go and take care of it. 

_He_ was going to be a _-father-._

Sighing happily, the Emperor hopped slightly and slid down the banister only to push off and land lightly on his feet, resuming his happy amble.

A brief stop outside of the door to the Medicus that he was spending his time circling and guarding confirmed with one of the attendants outside that no, the baby hadn't been born yet, yes the Lady was still in labour, and no, they didn't know when the baby would be born. He had read up on the process, as disgusting as it was, and knew it could take bells. He was content with being patient. 

Another round and check of his stranglehold on the blessing, and he was admiring the art on the walls. He had commissioned several of them, and painted two himself. Most of them featured the Wraith indirectly, usually scenes of bodies that had arrows sticking out of them that were possessed of white fletching that bore blue bands. Some were scenes from his own battles. One was a rather picturesque scene of a sunset that she had inexplicably taken a liking to, prompting him to purchase it on the spot, refusing to leave without it and paying an exorbitant amount. 

He could see it. Their first family picnic. He would be large enough to hold a weapon, probably a dagger of some kind just to ensure he could defend himself. She would probably hunt down a stag, and they would share the stuffed venison heart. They'd cook the whole beast manually, saving what they didn't end up eating for sausages and steaks, and he could mount yet another set of antlers on the walls for her.

Maybe she would use some of the hide and make him a new grip for his sword. The leather wrapped about it _was_ getting a little frayed...

Two more souls with _intent_. Well now, he had known that news of the birth of a crown prince, of an heir had spread but his kill count was up to fifteen currently, and that was just that week. Though, he smirked to himself, they had a better chance against _him_ than they ever would against _her_. He didn't quite take the glee she did in the _challenge_, but at least he didn't play with them. For him, it was _work_, it was unnecessary effort. He had a nation to run, and a world to conquer, he generally didn't have time to shoot them in the leg, chase them for three blocks as they started to hope they might have gotten away, and then pin them to a wall to slowly bleed out depending on if she was making an example or not. 

She wasn't unnecessarily cruel. She was like an animal. The chase thrilled her, but when her prey was dead, it was dead. 

He paused at a corner, back against the wall, and counted silently to six before he stepped out and unsheathed his sword, swinging it up on a diagonal and cleaving part way through the body of elezen and lifting his boot to brace it against the torso and slide his blade free. Delicately, he cleaned the blade before resuming his humming way, cutting through a side room with a piano in it and making his way to where two hallways intersected. Tapping his toe against the marble floors (Zodiark's Mercy, but he _loved_ working with marble. It was just _so_ easy to clean.) he waited patiently for the intruder to sneak out of the watercloset they had taken refuge in to avoid the patrolling guard. 

He _was going to be _a_ -father-. _

The door opened, and the intruder stepped out and froze when he caught sight of the Emperor before turning and bolting the other way. He managed to get all of six steps before the sword that was hurled like a javelin impaled him from behind and knocked him clean off his feet. The wheezing deathrattle was ended abruptly as Solus drew the blade free and then stabbed it back down, only mildly irked that he had _missed_ and needed a second strike to off the intruder. 

Still, nothing could _truly_ dampen his spirits. Not that day. For on that day, his _son_ would be born. _Her_ son. 

Most importantly, _their_ son. 

Ohh, but maybe they should teach the child how to use a lance. Definitely improvised weapons, he didn't want to put the effort into counting the times he had needed to kill someone with some miscellaneous item that had been on hand. Oh, and he should probably finally settle on a recreational art for the boy. He refused to raise an uncultured little hellion. Something musical, perhaps. Acting would be a _must_ in the event he needed to bluff his way out of a situation. It just wouldn't do to presume the child would always _win_, and losing was an important lesson in and of itself. 

He could see it now. Their little boy, beaming proudly from the stage of a school play. Gold eyed and white haired, He'd have practiced diligently for _hours_ to memorize his lines, before being allowed out to play with the peers selected for his age group. A naturally charismatic leader, with a winning smile that led his friends in pretend wars in the shallow pond. Sometimes, they might even catch some of the frogs that might live there. There had yet to be any survivors of her hunting hawks, no mater how many times he had it restocked. 

Whistling to himself, realized he had forgotten to clean the sword and turned back, eventually finding the dead body and doing so before sheathing the blade. The guard had wandered back by then, and apologized profusely for her failure to notice the intruder. He patted her on the shoulder and reminded her about how important the day was, but also reminded her that any enemies would have hired the very best they could. She saluted briskly, nodding rapidly and then set about hauling the body away. 

Turning to resume his meander and check on his chokehold, he was satisfied to note that she wasn't overly distressed and that everything seemed fine. 

Rounding a corner, his smile and good mood evaporated as a portal opened immediately in front of him. 

Ballsy of them, he thought to himself, thinking that he would just _leave_. Turning around, he ignored the portal and picked another direction. Ten minutes later, checking on his wife once more, (The baby was being born! Less than an hour to wait, barring complications!) and he was humming and practically skipping his way through the halls. 

He meandered down a hallway, and pair of portals opened, flanking him. Rolling his eyes, he simply turned and moved to step aside before grunting as two Ascians scooped him by the arms, hauled him bodily off his feet and dragged him through the third portal that opened up in front of him. 

He fought them, of course. But it was Lahabrea _and_ Elidibus that had a hold of him, and both were countering faster than he could cast. They threw him to the ground and the portal closed, with it ending his chokehold on his wife's blessing. 

Red light flared as his mask materialized, and he surged to his feet and slammed his fist into the nose of Lahabrea's vessel. They were still countering everything he was trying to cast, but the way the face crunched inwards was _particularly_ satisfying and rather suddenly he only had one of them to contend with via aether. He didn't bother to waste it on an attack, clawing open a rift and reaching through it, trying to find his _wife_ and bringing what he could to bear on strangling the blessing of light that had surged through her, tearing through her, and he clawed it back even as fire erupted around him. Pressure on the portal caused it to shrink, but he snarled and bent it to his will, keeping it open even as he turned to focus on Elidibus who stood between him and the rift, physically shaking with the force of his fury as masks lit up around him. The lesser Ascians had been rallied to the cause, and they all began to force the portal closed. 

Desperation lent him strength. He relinquished just a smidge of his grasp on her blessing, and that _damn hole_ stayed blessedly open as he matched eleven of them in might. 

"You have _no idea-_"**<<What it is THAT YOU DO! _CEASE, NOW!_>>**

"Emet-Selch, this is madness! That _isn't her!_" Lahabrea had returned with a new vessel, and threw his arms wide even as he stalked forward. The rift buckled as he contended with all twelve, but he grit his teeth and slowly stalked toward where Elidibus folded his arms. 

"The child will survive, a useful pawn, but that half-formed _thing_ is just a distraction, bait from the Enemy to stall your efforts and-" Emet-Selch turned and threw his sword. It sank to the hilt into the vessel of the lesser Ascian that _dared_ speak to him thus, that _dared_ to insult his _wife_-

"This is exactly what we have been trying to tell you. That she should drive you to such extremes, is just further proof of how much she has ensnared you." The white-robed Ascian unfolded his arms, drifting slowly back to stay out of reach. 

He could feel it. Hades could feel the insidious way the blessing was slipping out of his grasp as he was forced to focus more on the portal than it. He could feel the way her aether was weakening as Hydaelyn's touch rejected the child, rejected the half-dark thing that had grown within Her champion's body, and he just barely kept it at bay. The weight against his rift lessened, eased, then slackened all at once, and he threw himself into reinforcing his grasp-

Pain erupted across his form. Not his _physical_ one, no that was too precious a tool. Twelve struck as one against his aether, and the world around him went _black_.

* * *

When he came to, he remained very, very still. His vessel was propped up near by, and he could feel the others as they watched him. 

"You understand how necessary our intervention was. She had already convinced you to alter our plans for Garlemald. It must be a tool for chaos, to balance the order that grips the world." 

Gathering his ragged, torn aether, he sank himself back into the bones of his vessel. He gave them nothing. He gave them less than nothing, a trick he had learned from _her,_ staring blankly ahead as he sorted himself out and pulled his walls and barriers and shields tight about himself. He was numb, oh so carefully numb, like the moment that came immediately before the prick of a needle in the forearm. 

"You know your duty, Emet-Selch. I should hope that you should not need to be reminded again."

He remained silent, clumsily tearing open a rift and staggering through. They let him go, twelve sets of eyes watching him, and despite the way it closed behind him he knew they still watched. 

Maybe... Maybe she survived. She was _tough_. He didn't dare check ahead, making his way to the Medicus and trying oh so very hard not to look at the way the attendant at the door was as pale as a sheet. The door opened, and he stepped in to the iron smell of blood. There, in the middle of it all, breathing shallowly and that special kind of bloodless pale that spoke of a particularly certain kind of dying, lay the exhausted and triumphant body of his wife. Tucked against her breast and suckling hungrily was their son, remarkably clean for all that blood stained her thighs and the sheets on the bed. He stood at her side, and those piercing blue eyes lifted to watch him. 

He reached forward, brushing some of the hair matted to her forehead aside, and she smiled victoriously at him. 

"Behold," she rasped, voice a dry croak. "our son."

She lifted him from her breast, hands shaking, and turned the infant towards him. His own pale gold eyes stared back at him, and the pink _sausage_ wiggled and cooed at him. He took him without thinking, eyes never leaving hers as they dulled and her hands dropped limply to the covers. 

He turned, wordless until he reached the door with the babe cradled in his arms where he stopped. 

"Bring wood and kindling to the private garden. Bring her as well."

The attendant nodded hurriedly, before turning and breaking into a sprint. He picked a path and set himself to walk it, collecting his cloak and using it to loosely swaddle the child as he made his way outside. He couldn't remember the journey. The next time he blinked, he was standing under the tree, _their_ tree, watching them build the pyre. He blinked again, and they laid her body out atop it, and then suddenly someone was handing him a torch. 

The baby in his arm burbled quietly, and the next time he blinked everyone was there. All of his loyal soldiers, loyal staff, _loyal_ people he, she, _they_ had methodically recruited. 

Stepping forward, he tucked the torch among the kindling. Stepping back, he blinked and the pyre was fully lit, a raging inferno. Another blink, and he was alone save for the baby, staring at the smoldering ashes.

He felt _old_. Old and _tired_ down to the very core of him. There was a void, a hole in him that he refused to address, refused to acknowledge, knowing that they were still watching him. Some part of him helpfully supplied the term 'shock', and he found himself turning and making his way back inside. He found a wet nurse waiting for him, and wordlessly handed the child off to her. 

Over the course of the next hour, he systematically tore down every painting that was in any way, shape or form related to her. He very carefully tucked them into the large room she had used for practice, for training, and for exercise. Quietly, he heard himself give the order that everyone available was to scour the building and bring every one of her _things_ to the room, that once everything had been gathered they were to lock it and gather every key for the door. They were to be melted down, and recast into a dagger to be given to _their_ son as soon as he was able to hold it properly. 

Outside, it began to snow. _She_ loved the snow. It made things interesting, and snowball fights had been fun.

He didn't have the heart left to _care_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat*  
I, uhh... May have gone a little overboard on the bitter, but it was almost sickeningly sweet at the start of it.  
Bonus points if you felt a growing sense of horror, considering what was going to happen was already known.


	41. What do chairs think all day?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do -not- own the song Stolen Dance by Milky Chance, but I've always felt that it was fitting for these characters. I also tend to listen to it on repeat when writing some of these.  
I recommend that, if you haven't heard it, you go and look it up on youtube!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like we needed something light after that last one.  
To which, I just want to add?  
I didn't write it in, because there was only a certain level of ouch that I wanted to delve into, and I was writing that at work and had to keep looking away because ninjas were starting to cut onions in the area (You're right, curse those ninjas!) but...  
He made her a necklace to subdue her Blessing, but decided to do it himself periodically during her pregnancy, and during the birth so that he could better compensate for the different levels of strength her aether waxed and waned to. So he's been kicking himself because if he hadn't...  
She would've probably survived.

Every good project had a handful of stages. 

The first was conceptualization. Blueprints, designs, comparing notes on what has worked in the past and what hasn't as needed by what purpose the item itself was intended to fulfill. Part of this stage was determining what materials were on hand that could be used, as well. This stage often either took the greatest or least amount of time, directly equivalent to the sum of two things; functionality, or flair. A complex mechanical design that required very little decoration, or conversely an elaborate design pasted onto a simple mechanical design, took less time than a complex mechanical system with an elaborate decorative design. 

The second was resource gathering. In Amaurot, this stage had taken the least amount of time on average, due to the wide availability and flexibility of their inherent creation magics. Here, it would take more time unless he scavenged and salvaged parts from an existing chair. 

The third was the actual construction of the project. This was where people tended to run into problems, because it was rare that anyone would design something that would _work_ properly unless they were incredibly experienced. Often, people were forced to revisit stages one and, sometimes, two when things didn't quite work out. Fortunately, Emet-Selch was not simply any craftsman, but _the_ Architect. It was safe to say that he had a fairly good idea as to what he was doing. 

The fourth was _testing_. For a simple item such as a chair, it was a matter of sitting in it and testing the mechanism he would design, This was often when things such as maximum weight capacity, as devised by what might be allowed for by the first stage, was properly determined through a vigorous amount of trial and error. 

The fifth... Was presentation. This final stage consisted of ensuring the product was clean, looked as intended, and was then shown to the target audience. 

The Ascian stretched idly, told her that under no circumstances was she to look at what he was making (enforced by the threat that if she _did_ he would promptly scrap and start over, and they both knew her patience just wouldn't survive that) because he wanted it to be a _surprise _and retreated to the spare room with a pair of pencils and a few scraps of parchment. 

He numbered the pages, tucked into the desk, and closed his eyes to visualize what it was that he wanted. After a few moments, he nodded and reopened his eyes, picked up one of the pencils and started to sketch on the back of the first page. 

* * *

Riddles were out of the question. She didn't do well enough with them, and got bored of them easily. Urianger was in no condition for any physical exercise such as sparring or training, and he was definitely -not- about to let her try and tidy the place up. Not after what happened last time. 

He was particularly smart, however, and had a great deal of experience not only dealing with those with a penchant for mischief, but also her particular brand. Out came the deck of cards, and while they didn't play for anything of value he weaseled one favour and quite a few easy laughs from their banter and the two hours spent on such before the Warrior started to get bored. Still, he wasn't about to panic. 

He had a _plan._

* * *

List of what he would need in hand, Emet-Selch opened the door and started paying attention to the world around him Making his way down the stairs, he gathered the chair that had been donated to the cause and idly waved as he started to drag it outside. They waved at him, and the Ascian waved in return before blinking as he took stock of the situation as they turned back to their respective hands. A moment of listening to their easygoing back and forth was all it took for him to realize that Urianger was counting cards and she was using sleight of hand to swap the ones she didn't want out of her hand back into the bottom of the deck.

They were both cheating, and both of them knew not only that the other was cheating, but that the other knew they were cheating as well. 

Shaking his head, Emet-Selch let the almost helpless smile play over his face as he dragged the chair outside and around to the woodworking tools that the elezen had graciously granted him the use of. Some of the other materials he would need were out there as well, and he idly rolled up the sleeves of the form fitting black clothes he usually wore under his armor, and took stock of what he had on hand. 

He would need nothing extra, if his recollection of how to use fire to harden wood was accurate. Which it _was_. A perk, of the title of Emet-Selch. 

A small, satisfied nod, coupled with just enough magic to repel curious faeries and the Ascian began stage three.

* * *

Urianger settled in with tea for himself and hot chocolate for her, and they reminisced about the past, traded ideas, and shared personal news. There was a pattern to it, a timeless dance that she let herself get swept up in as they neglected to mention the sad times and instead focused on the small, happy moments. Highlighting them. 

Summerford farms and the orange orchards there, and her fondness for the fruit. The ridiculous rule that it didn't matter what else the Warrior wore, so long as they specifically wore dress shoes to a party in Limsa Lominsa. The beach at Costa del Sol, and the way some of the coral was luminescent. He went into some of the mythology about _why_, deliberately picking the more fantastical stories that he could. 

She laughed at some of them, before the topic turned to Sharlayan, and he started to go into great detail about the things he knew would hold her attention. Largely, that meant food, drink, and acceptable secrets. She traded him the tidbit of the Architect's vessel would snore softly for the fact that Alisaie was ticklish only along the sides of her lower back.

Eventually, the conversation trailed off, and he reached into his repertoire, and produced a mandolin.

* * *

It was the singing, that caught his attention. More pointedly, it was the fact that _she_ was singing, And presumably playing an instrument, as he distinctly heard not only a mandolin but a lute as well.

"... I want you by my siiide~... So that I never feel alone, again..."

He figured a break was in order anyways, and crept to the window to peer in. The elezen sat a few feet away from her, supporting the melody on a mandolin as she led with a lute, fingers flicking easily over the strings as she sang. 

"They've always been so kiiind~... But now they've brought _you_ away from me. I hope they didn't _get_ your miiind~... Your heart is too strong, anyway..."

The Warrior was tapping a heel against the floor in a matching beat, and soon enough Urianger was as well, smiling sadly as he began to play with more confidence as he picked up the repetition of the melody. 

"We need to fetch _back_ the tiiiime~... They have stolen from us."

Her hands shifted along the lute as she closed her eyes and smiled even as she continued, head shaking in time with the beat. The astrologian played softer, following her lead until he became familiar with the new section of the song.

"I want you, we can bring it on the floor! You've never danced like this before - we don't talk about it. Dancing on, doin' the boogie all night long, stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it..."

The Ascian blinked, taking in the mournful tone of the song as she repeated the chorus and then led Urianger back into the main melody of the song, bobbing her head to the beat set by her heel while she dropped the pitch of her playing an octave and his remained the same.

"Coldest winter for meee~... No sun is shining, anymore... The only thing I feel is paiiin~... Caused by absence of yooouuu~..."

The elezen nodded along with her, eyes partially sliding shut as he let the music carry them both. The Warrior had tilted her head back as she sang, eyes still shut, not bothering to look at the notes she clearly knew well with how her fingers continued to flick along the strings.

"Suspense controlling my miiind~... I cannot find the way, out of here... I want you by my siiide~... So that I never _feel_ alone, again."

Tipping her head forward once more, she played a few bars to give the elezen time to prepare was all she offered before they both started on the chorus once more. 

"I want you, we can bring it on the floor! You've never danced like this before - we don't talk about it. Dancing on, doin' the boogie all night long, stoned in paradise, shouldn't talk about it..."

They repeated the chorus four more times and then continued the melody for a little bit before she finally let the strings of the lute go silent, his mandolin doing so as well after a few bars. 

"I never understood why that song made me so sad, y'know, not till just now." She chuckled softly, lifting her head to look at Urianger who was flexing his fingers and tilting his head inquisitively. "Maybe I always kinda knew someone was out there, waiting for me. Someone stolen away. First time I heard it, I bawled my eyes out."

"'Tis indeed a sad song. I shalt lead something a fair bit lighter in tone."

"Alright, I'll follow you this time."

Emet-Selch turned away from the window, smiling softly. 

* * *

Slowly flexing her aching fingers, the Warrior leaned back in her chair, caught herself starting to tip it onto the back legs and adjusted to keep all four firmly on the floor. "It's been a while, you know, since I last played. I wonder if Emet-Selch plays anything. He probably does, he's had lots've time to learn. Almost wanna see if he can play the harpsichord."

"Harpsichord? Specifically?"

"Seems like something he'd know. Classy, fancy, requiring long, slender fingers with a good deal of dexterity." She chuckled, carefully setting the lute on her lap back into the case and arching her back to stretch and stifle a yawn. "I know he likes music."

"Thou should play for him." The Warrior snorted at that, shaking her head as the astrologian deftly tucked the mandolin into it's own case and shook his hands out. "Thou believes I speak in jest, when naught could be further from the truth. Thy ear for music is impeccable."

"Nah, I'd... I'd get nervous. I'm not -that- good. Besides, what am I gunna play for him? A Lominsan Drinking Song?" She shook her head, raking both hands back through her hair and then idly snagging one end of the scarf and starting to play with it. "At least you can't judge me, because most've what you know is ancient ballads and ballroom courtly stuff."

"If thy wished it, I could search for something thou might wish to play for him."

"And when exactly would I get time to sneak off and practice? He'd follow me and watch and spoil the surprise. I can't even blame him, I'm trying real hard not t'do the same thing." She chuckled, leaning back down to flip the case closed and roll the more heavily scarred of her shoulders. 

"You could simply _ask_ you know. To hold me to your attention span is simply _insulting_, little Monster."

The Warrior coloured at that, pinking across the cheeks as she glanced towards the door, clearing her throat. 

"Yeah, what I was just saying about nervous? Please _please_ don't ask me to play you anything. Please? Twelve I'll fuck it up so badly."

The Ascian stepped into the building, carefully holding the door at an angle with one hand and keeping hold of something behind the door with the other. "You _do_ realize I could hear you playing through the window, correct?"

"I mean, I do now." The pink was rapidly turning red, and she scrubbed a hand across her face as it continued to heat up. "I just... Remember the music you played? Smooth Jazz? I can't... I'm not that _good_, and..."

"I shall take pity on you just this _once_, and only because your distress amuses me. This topic is _far_ from closed, but for now... close your eyes, little Monster." He smirked at her, and she squinted at him before folding her arms and closing her eyes with a grumble. "Remember, no peeking."

She grumbled for another moment, before lifting the ends of the scarf and tucking them against her eyes. He waited for a moment, watching her, before opening the door the rest of the way and hefting the chair, carrying it across the threshold and weaving between scattered stacks of books to set it down in front of her. He could feel how Urianger studied it, leaning slightly to study the support system. 

It was the proper height for a chair, but was built more like a backed stool in that instead of four legs, there was one that then spread out to five feet. No arms, simply a discreet lever under one side of the seat where it stuck out of the fire-blackened, wooden joint beneath the seat. There was a short, curved slot that it stuck out of, and he gripped the back of the seat with both hands, letting his fingers rest in some of the lazy, scrolling pattern that was now etched around the edge of the back and seat. 

"You can look now."

She lowered the scarf, and _stared_ for a moment before leaning to peer at the mechanism along the underside. Rolling his eyes, Emet-Selch patted the seat with one hand and beckoned to her with the other, and she shifted off the chair she had been perched on and crossed the distance so that he could snag her shoulders, turn her, and sit her down on his creation. 

Recreation, really, but it wasn't like anyone there would know what an _office chair_ was. He staunchly ignored the bitterness at how much they had _lost_. 

"Here." He slid his hand along her arm, grasping her own and guiding it down and around to the lever. "Pull down, and lean back. I trust your sense of balance, but be forewarned you will need it." 

"Ohhh, I think I know how this works." She beamed, twitching the lever downwards and leaning back. The oiled wooden joint pivoted, and she reclined easily so that she could peer up at him, lock remaining disengaged. "There were some in Amaurot!"

"... Now I know for a _fact_ that none of the areas your little friends went to had these." Sighing, he lifted a hand to cover his face. "Of _course_ you broke into the other buildings. While _dying_. Why am I not surprised..."

"You're wrong."

"Oh? -Please-, do tell." Shifting his hand, he blinked as she reached up and snagged him by the shirt, pulling him down so that she could steal a delighted kiss and then grin at him. 

"_Our_ friends, Architect."

The Ascian glanced away from her, to Urianger as if to verify how true that might be, and blinked at the amused smile he saw there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to recall reading in the comments (and I went back and double checked, yes, indeed it was there)  
that -somebody- wanted the chair to show up.  
Tadaa~!  
Also first time I've ever written a song into any fic I've ever done. Hmm.  
Hope it flowed well.


	42. Chapter 42

By the time Thancred and Ryne had brought the skyslipper to Il Mheg and joined them, Urianger was up and walking. They had, apparently, been well on their way to the camp when the elezen had contacted them and had decided to drive the rest of the way, camp, collect their things and their 'guest', and then head back to the Crystarium so that she could be taken care of by the guards and medical staff on hand there. Only then had they turned their vessel and driven it to the Bookman's Shelves. 

Currently, the astrologian sat with a cup of tea, placidly weathering the storm as the gunblade verbally tore into him. Senses open to the aetheric, he had schooled his features into a proper look of remorse even as he felt, with hidden amusement, the Ascian and Warrior ever so carefully and slowly sneaking out of one of the windows to the back of the building. 

They circled around, moving slower as they approached the windows, and Ryne went shifted suddenly. How grand would it be, he thought to himself, to be able to have the clarity of aetheric vision that he could tell their emotions without having to look at their faces? 

"... and not to _mention_ how dangerous that was. You _knew_ you were fighting it, by all indications you had shaken the worst of it! You should have waited until you were _completely fine_..."

He had an inkling that Emet-Selch could do so. By all means most of the souls were half-way to what he probably considered 'complete', and though he was staunchly opposed to such rampant loss of life some days, he wondered... 

The three of them, former Oracle, Warrior and Emet-Selch, started to move away from the building. The resigned sigh that threatened to escape him was stifled, and he sipped his tea quietly even as he dutifully paid grave attention to the now pacing hyur.

"... _ONLY_ good thing that came of this was that you decided to park in _Il bloody Mheg_ where Titania could do something about it! What do you have to say for yourself!?"

* * *

"The flowers are always so pretty here." Ryne led them across the field, turning and smiling at them as they ambled along after her. "I've never seen this place in anything but full bloom." 

"I mean, yeah, but a bit've contrast and chance is nice every now and then." The Warrior smiled back, tucking her hands behind her head and letting her eyes lift to the sky. "Everything in it's time. Rak'tika was pretty good because of everything I could climb."

"I... I have a question, for you two. Mostly for you, but..." The former oracle clasped her hands together, before looking towards Emet-Selch. "Can you... Take me to the Source? Not right now, but... Thancred won't talk about it, and Urianger is always so cryptic with his words, but I know everyone wants to go back again, because there's a war going on. I want to help, just like everyone came back here to help me when I started being able to feel Eden."

The Ascian quirked a brow, and the armored boot that subtly knocked against the side own as he opened his mouth had him reconsidering his instinctive response. "Whhhat ever for? Surely the Source holds nothing for you."

"But... It does. It _will_. It's where... Where the real Minfillia was from. It's where Thancred will be." 

"Ryne, listen, as someone who makes it their business to get into trouble I wanna make it a point to make sure that you understand something." Moving to flop down into the flowers, the Warrior patted the ground next to her and bid the girl to sit down, even as Emet-Selch took a moment to scan the area for anything remotely dangerous. "Now, hear me out before you protest. You're no stranger to danger. You're like, what, fourteen? At best? The twins technically only have a few years on you, and they keep getting themselves in dangerous situations. Seven hells, I did too when I was that young. I'd already killed someone by the time I was _ten_. It wasn't neat. It wasn't clean. It sat wrong with me for a bit. That's not even mentioning how much like _babies_ we all must seem to folks like Emet-Selch. SO it's not an age thing, before you start thinking that might be it. But. _But_." 

Holding up her hands, she smiled sadly and gestured to the world around them. "But just _look_ at this place. Think of the Crystarium. Think of everything we've done to try and save this place. All've us together. You could do a lot've good here, that we can't get to if we're out in the Source. The Exarch tries - Twelve, does he ever - but remember what we saw in Eulmore. You know what it was like there. All've those people don't really know how to live like _people_ any more. They don't know the effort that goes into it. You're a Hero to them. You cured their meol-induced mind control. They'll listen to you. Being a Hero, though, it's not all fun and games. 'Cause once you start, well... You can't really stop."

The Warrior dropped her hands, looking tired for a moment before smiling. "They _need_ you here. You're familiar to them, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You're _their_ Hero, while the rest've us are just outsiders that stuck our noses into something that was only somewhat our business. This world? It's yours to protect. You can't do that if you're in the Source with us. Sure, you could anyways, and be selfish, but what about _them_? What about the Chais? Folks are going to need someone to step in and pick who's right and who's wrong, and you've got the clout to do so without everyone getting angry. They're always gunna need someone to run and show them effort, someone that they can look up to, and sure they might do that a little bit for us it hits them a little harder when they see one of their own doing it."

"But..." Ryne frowned, shoulders rounding slightly as she idly played with some of the flowers in front of her. "But what about everything we owe you. You've done so much, and..."

"Only a fool attempts to pay the debt of another." Emet-Selch drawled from nearby, sighing. "Look, what our little Monster is trying to gently tell you is that you have responsibilities here as a Hero of the First. Are you truly so eager to avoid them, to leave things half-done here? You have traveled the local lands, many know your face and name, 'tis common knowledge that you are the Minfillia. With everything in shambles, the rebuilding phase is where the people of the First will need you the most."

"'Sides, you don't owe me anything. I only lasted as long as I did 'cause you stopped me from turning into a sin eater on Mount Gulg. That would've been the end, plain and simple." The Warrior beamed at Ryne as the girl flushed. "As far as I'm concerned, we're square."

"No, that's-"

"Ryne, _I don't stay dead_." The Warrior leaned forward, smile vanishing as the girl's eyes widened. "I don't think you _get_ it. If I'd turned, I'd've had the might of all of the Lightwardens, plus my own Echo. When I get killed, I get back up, stronger. You've _seen_ this. Can you imagine it? A Lightwarden, that just _keeps getting back up_, that enjoys difficult fights, that gets crueler and laughs harder the longer it goes on, drunk on adrenaline and the thirll've it all? -You- stopped that. -You- held that at bay. Not the Exarch. Not me. _You_. The only thing that's gunna get me in the end is either Zodiark, an Ascian or _old age_, and I don't think any of these things would really bother with me if I'd turned."

They sat in silence for a moment, the red-headed girl poking and prodding at the flowers idly as she thought about it. 

"... You're right. I'm being foolish, aren't I." 

"You're a Hero. For better or worse, that means people look up to you now. Me? I hate the title. I never feel like I can save everyone, and that's because I _can't_. It's okay to say that you had fun adventuring with us, that you want more of that. But I also know lots of folks here that you'd make easy, fast friends with. Taynor, Cerigg and them. The dwarf. Lue-Reeq. All people who want to make a difference, and you could show them how." The Warrior was smiling again, before she stretched and flopped backwards, sighing. "There's gunna be expeditions out into the empty when we finish fixing it."

"Can... Can I visit some time, though? I want to see where Minfillia and Thancred are from." Ryne lifted her gaze, looking hesitant and then smiled at the thumbs up the Warrior gave her. 

"'Course you can. Just like we're gunna visit you. You're _family_, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with us poking our noses into your business from time to time, just like you've gotta poke your nose into ours. Just try and do it the way everyone's doing, instead of asking Sorcerer's of Eld to smuggle you across the expanse."

* * *

Eventually, they all agreed that Thancred had probably shouted himself hoarse and would be more amusing than intimidating when he turned his wrath on them. 

They were wrong. 

Opening the door to the Bookman's Shelves revealed a properly sheepish-looking Urianger still sitting at the table and the gunblade standing with his arms folded, waiting for them. 

"Ryne. Did you finish the cartridges."

"Y-" The Warrior trod lightly on her foot, and she blinked over at her and the minute nod towards the door she was given before shaking her head. "N-no."

"Well, go on then." 

The former Oracle nodded and turned to head back outside, door closing behind her. Safely out of sight, Thancred narrowed his uncovered eye at them. 

"What have you to say for yourself. Go on. I look forward to you trying to explain your way out of this one."

"Uhh... Urianger said it was okay? I'm sure he's already gone over everything with you. I dunno why you're getting angry at me, you know how good he is at misdirec-"

"Because you left your responsibilities behind to go off and play with your pet murderer-!" It was the wrong thing to say, and he faltered under the weight of not only the glare that Emet-Selch was leveling his way, but the narrow-eyed, blue-tinged steel one he was getting from the Warrior. 

"'Tis _your_ friend, little Monster. _Good Luck_." Arms folding, a ripple of darkness enveloped the Architect, and Urianger slowly pushed himself up so that he could make his way to the door, opening it and slipping outside to leave the two of them alone. 

* * *

"Do you think she knew what he was going to say?" Ryne sat on the fence, swinging her legs idly as she watched Emet-Selch stare at the Bookman's Shelves. He still had his arms folded, and gave no indication he had heard her. 

"'Tis quite possible. The Warrior of Light hath often proven apt at interpreting the mood and intention of others, thusly drawing conclusions that may have otherwise remained hidden." Urianger leaned against the railing, staring into his tea. "I ought to chide thou for eavesdropping."

She offered him an apologetic smile. "Do... Do you suppose you should go back? Just to make sure..."

The elezen looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning before the Ascian huffed. 

"As much as I should wish him to, t'would be foolish." Unfolding his arms, Emet-Selch gestured towards the building and then let his arms hang at his sides. "She is an ingot of _cold fury_, and as much as I also might wish to enjoy seeing her tear the boy's arm off to _beat_ him with the wet end, even I am not stupid enough to get _that_ close."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Ryne frowned at him, rounding her shoulders as he scoffed. 

"Of course he did. Ever has he disdained me, simply because of what I am. I meant what I said in the Empty, however. I need not lower myself to his level."

"His reasoning is sound, however, largely due to the possession he did endure by way of Lahabrea." Urianger gently pointed out, before sipping his drink and glancing at the Ascian. "Thy kindred, in their tempering, hath made enemies of all."

"Yes, well, far be it for _me_ to prove the exception to the rule. The boy needs to learn that we are people-"

"Methinks thy words in the Occular linger with him. I speak of thy admission that you do not consider us to be alive, ergo you do not believe that t'would be murder to kill us. If thy opinion remains yet the same, ever will you hold his ire. However, should you prove without a doubt that such has changed, then there is yet hope for peace betwixt the two of you." The elezen sipped his tea once more, watching the way Emet-Selch's posture altered slightly, shoulders tensing. "... _Has_ thy outlook on the subject changed?" 

"... I don't know." The admission came, thoughtful and quiet from the Ascian as he sighed. 

"Does thy paramour not count as people?"

"She's _different_ from everyone."

"Because you love her, right?" Ryne blinked back and forth between the two men, folding her hands on her lap. "It's... It's fairly obvious that you both feel strongly for one another. Even if you think everyone's broken."

"Her soul is eight-times rejoined. Just the tiniest fraction above half, for the Shards number ten and three, plus the Source. Urianger, is seven-times rejoined. You, little girl, are _regrettably _more complete than he is. Tell me, how many sections can you cut a worm into, before 'tis no longer a worm?" Turning slightly to stare at her, he let some of the heat of his glare dissipate as she hunched further. "... 'Tis an old argument. Older than you. Older even than the Shards. How large must a soul be, how robust, before it is counted as a person? Trees have souls, though they are yet largely lacking in sentience. Animals have souls, yet still these things lack true intelligence. In comparison to the robust souls of my people, where do _you_ fit in?"

"You _don't_." Emet-Selch turned to look back at the building. "At least, you _shouldn't_. _She_ always believed that everything was, if not equal in soul at least equal in worth despite how everyone else disagreed with her. All that ever mattered to her was that something was alive. So long as it held the smallest spark of life, it did not matter if it was one of our people or a potted _cactus_, she would have thrown herself into a burning building to try and save them. Through the eons, this has largely remained a constant, with her, provided she had the inclination to care."

"And what do you believe?" Ryne straightened slightly, realizing there was more bitterness than anger to him. "Without Zodiark's tempering, without anyone telling you what's right or wrong, what do you believe?"

"'I believe..." He paused, only to heave a sigh. "... I believe that this topic is _exhausting_."

"You're avoiding the question." The former Oracle frowned, shifting her hands against her dress to smooth the material. "I think... I think you're _scared_ to care. That it's easier not to, because then you have to accept that you killed countless people when you helped rejoin the other Shards. I think-"

"_I_ think, little girl, that you speak _far too much_." 

* * *

"He's a _monster_, Priscilla! His hands are stained with more blood than any of ours, and he doesn't even care!" Thancred threw his arms into the air staring at her as she stared at him. "The only reason, the singular -only- reason he's even pretending to be docile and helpful is because of _you_. Because he's obsessed with some version of you that died _fighting_ him! Because he can't let go!"

"Wow, that's _rich_, coming from you. Ryne _still_ thinks you secretly hate her because she's not Minfillia." An ugly smile curled across her face as she folded her arms. 

"Fine, you want to take that path?" The gunblade pointed at her, and then towards the door. "That's exactly the point. She _isn't_ Minfillia. And you're not whatever ghost it is that he's chasing."

She threw her arms in the air, scoffing. "So that's it then. You can't stand the fact that you had to go one way and learn to _forgive_ her for Minfillia's choices, and he doesn't. That's what this is about. It's what it's always been about-"

He crossed the few feet between them, pointing in her face now and baring his teeth in a snarl. "Don't you _dare_ say that I have anything in common with that-"

"With that man who's lost the people he cherished the most, spent his existence partially avoiding, partially pining after, and partially helping from the shadows the person he ACCIDENTALLY screwed over and loves? Gee, who's that sound like. OH! You and MINBLOODYFILLIA!" The Warrior lunged forward, snagging him by the front of his coat and shaking him as she shouted in his face.

He snapped both hands up, hauling her grip off his coat and then surged forward with a fist to nail her square in the face, sending her staggering, and she snarled even as she came right back with a punch to his gut.

* * *

"Maybe." Ryne squared her shoulders, hopping down off the fence so that she could walk around the Ascian with all the courage she mustered. "But I think you also _want_ to care. You could have gone anywhere, but you stepped out of a rift near me. You gave me advice. You protected me in Eden. If I was really just a tiny piece of a worm... You could say that it was because you didn't want to see her sad because of my death, but I think... I think that would just be an excuse."

"Brave little thing, aren't you." He stared down at her, expression unreadable even as she smiled shyly. 

"I promised myself, that I'd be brave. That I wouldn't hide anymore, that I'd fight." She clasped her hands behind her back, swinging slightly and ducking her head sheepishly. 

"How, exactly, did you draw the conclusion you have and yet miss the obvious factor of my undying devotion to my _wife_? Why _should_ I care about the countless insignificant half-formed, feeble frail and foolish that make up the civilizations that have risen and fallen over the eons?" 

"Because remembering... It's sweeter than the now." Ryne frowned, looking down at the ground. "But it's not _real_. Not like what's in front of you. And as hard as you want to believe that you can make things the way they were, you know there's no going back. And she knows it, which is why she's trying so hard to love you as hard as she can, because even if neither of you can go back you can still go forward, and all that you living longer than her means in her eyes is that she has to work that much harder so that you have lots of good things to look back on before you find her again and keep going. Together. I know this, because Thancred's the same." 

"-Please-, the only ways he and I have any similarities is that we both have the same number of _limbs_ and-"

"You both miss the ones you loved, and have moved mountains in their names." She looked back up at him, one hand lifted and clenched into a fist as she tucked it against her heart. "She's different from me, because the Warrior wants to accept that past and be that person instead of severing herself from it and becoming someone new, like I did. And you love her. You don't just love who she was to you, you love _her_. Thancred... He loved Minfillia, not me, and for a long time I thought... I thought he hated me for not being her. But he doesn't. He's... He's learning, to be okay with me being me. But it's hard for him."

Emet-Selch studied her, before shifting down to one knee so that he could see her face properly. 

"... I _suppose, _when viewed through a certain lens and perspective, that _small_ similarities may become apparent." The admission was grudging, unwillingly admitted to as he tilted his head to the side. Ryne drew both hands up to just under her chin, frowning still. 

"You're both really devoted, strong and brave. You've done things that you regret, and try not to think about. But you're both working to make things _right_. I think... I think part of why he doesn't like you, is because he sees a bit of himself in you."

* * *

He threw a book at her, and she caught it before twisting to set it aside before grunting as he brought a chair (not the one that Emet-Selch had made, thankfully) across her back. It _cracked_, and she went down into the pile of books before lashing out with a foot and catching him in the knee. It drew a yelp out of him, and he staggered back enough that she was able to push herself up and bellow as she took two running steps and tackled him into another pile of books. 

"He's a MONSTER!"

Thancred curled, both arms up defensively as she hammered down, trying to punch him across the face through his guard. 

"Name five people we WORK WITH that AREN'T! Who's hands are squeaky clean!" She grunted as he dropped one hand and brought it around, nailing her in the side. She reflexively twisted, hissing and grunting as he snapped a hand up and snagged her by the collar, hauling her to the side so that they could roll into a pile of books and he could snag one to try and bring it down onto her face. 

"Nobody we've worked with ever KILLED MILLIONS IN A BLOODY CALAMITY!" 

She caught the book with the flat of one hand and pushed it to the side so that she could backhand him across the face with the return strike. It split his lip, and as he reeled she bucked up and sent them both tumbling back the way they had come. He disengaged, scrambling slightly to get a few feet of distance even as she threw the first thing she could get her hands on at him. It turned out to be a balled up piece of paper, and it bounced off of him harmlessly as she hauled herself to her feet. 

"YOU THINK I DON'T BLOODY KNOW THAT!?" Throwing her arms wide, she gestured to the world around them. "He made Vauthry! He had a direct hand in FUCKING THIS SHARD UP TOO! But guess what! He's TRYIN' T'FIX IT AND DESERVES THE CHANCE TO!!! Allag, Garlemald, countless other imperially inclined nations, he BUILT THOSE!!!" 

The gunblade lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping at his split lip and scowling at her. 

"You think I'm not _incredibly_ aware of every FUCKING soul he's snuffed, all in Zodiark's name? You think I've FORGIVEN him those!? FUCK no! But y'know, unlike me? Unlike you? He didn't exactly have a fucking CHOICE! So _excuuuse me_ if I'm gunna give him a chance to act like he wants to set things right! So sorry, that I wanna give him the same chance you and I were given, two fucking _street rat nobodies_ that cut _throats_ just as easily as purses! Instead of looking at all that red that's bleeding from his Twelve-damned _ledger_, I'm lookin' at every tiny-ass thing he does to HELP SOMEBODY!" She lowered her arms slowly, chest heaving as they glared at each other. "He's a powerful son've a bitch, 'Cred. And y'know what? That _scares the shit out've me_. That one wrong move could crack him and set him off. But y'know what? You know who hates him more than you do?"

"Everyone that ever _died_-"

"HIMSELF!" She jabbed a finger at the gunblade, at how he blinked. "Yeah, fuckin' familiar feeling that one, _isn't it_. You remember what he turned into, when I tore his tempering out? That's how he _sees_ himself. A bloody great big _monster_ that's only the barest, faintest shred've -person-. He wanted me to _kill_ him, in Amaurot, because then he'd be able to at least get some measure've _peace_. And when Elidibus was playing with the lightwarden aether that I _drowned_ myself in to save the First, when he chased someone he'd worked with for _a thousand, thousand years__?_ He had _legs_. He saw himself as a bit more've a person than he did before. He knows what he's done, and if he's gotta let himself hide behind _me_ as a pretense to do good things? To try and balance that out even the slightest bit? So be it. Guy's fucking _immortal_. Given the urge to, he could help save and protect people long after either've us are dust."

* * *

"Fine. I will admit that there are, indeed, _certain_ similarities. And that you _may_, just _possibly_, _theoretically_ have a point regarding my... Emotional inclinations. But if you _were_, 'tis very likely there would be good reason for such."

"_Theoretically_ speaking, if there were, what would they be?" 

All three of them sat on the fence. Ryne on one end, swinging her legs, while Urianger studied the dregs from his tea in the bottom of the cup on the other. The Ascian sat between them, scooted back enough to balance and hunched to tuck his elbows onto his knees, face between his hands. 

"... One of them _could_ be that I have not the strength to take twelve Ascians down on my own. This thing may or may not have been proven, and you can rest assured that Elidibus has been combing the Lifestream for every chunk he could find to elevate the original soul back to a semblance of his former power and state. Such is a costly move, but one that he would find necessary. Decidedly so, now that I only half-heartedly bear the banner of Zodiark." Emet-Selch heaved a sigh, blowing the white forelock out somewhat and blinking slowly as it flopped back into his face. 

Ryne nodded, hands clasped on her lap as she swung her legs again. "That would... That would be a good reason. Did they hurt you, before?"

He side-eyed her, and she raised her hands quickly as she amended her question. 

"I mean, um! Would they theoretically have hurt you, in the past, if you'd tried to care?"

"You are just... _terrible_ at this game, little girl."

"I like to think I'm learning." She smiled sheepishly, looking at her knees and smoothing her dress over them as he tutted quietly. 

"Slowly. 'Tis _entirely possible_, to answer the question posed. Should something threaten their plans... Well, they take exception to that. Most specifically if the individual throwing a wrench into the gears was potentially one of their own. Another would be the ostracisation from all that remained that was familiar. From those few others that _knew_." The Ascian's voice was soft as he looked back at the ground in front of them.

"The weight of the ages seems like it would be a horrible thing to carry alone." She frowned, and then glanced over at him. "You're not alone, though. You've got the Warrior. You've got Urianger, and me, too. And the Twins. And even Y'shtola, though she might not admit it. She's grateful that you pulled her out of the Lifestream." 

"Wonderful. The company of the cracked to support the failing mental health of an ancient being as he slowly descends into _madness_." Emet-Selch didn't bother to try and keep the sarcasm from his tone, shifting to pantomime holding a small flag and waving it before letting his hand and arm drop with a sigh. "I have been the power behind the throne. I have been the throne. I have earned the undying loyalty of the masses."

"Maybe, but right now, we seem to be what you have. And... And I like to think that, maybe, we might be enough for you to start with. Before Thancred, I didn't really have any friends. But I do now. I know it's hard. But she told me once that the best thing about friends, is that even if you've lost a bunch if you put your mind to it you can always make more." The former Oracle looked back at her knees, setting her hands on the fence on either side of her and swinging her legs slowly. "You just have to be brave enough to reach out."

"Thy olive branch was the first step. T'was a good option, perhaps the best one, and though it may not have seemed a success was a solid attempt that certainly gained attention and support with time and due diligence." Glancing over towards the building, Urianger grimaced. "... Things have become quiet."

"Weeellllll... Perhaps audibly. Her cold fury has eased, and they both appear to be quite sullen and miserable for the moment." Glancing towards the building, Emet-Selch slowly straightened and quietly cracked his back. 

"I should like to return, to discern the extent of the inevitable damage. With luck, thy paramour and Thancred hath kept things to the main floor."

"Well, if we all go together, then it shouldn't be too bad right?" Ryne shifted down off the fence, glancing at the two of them as they exchanged looks. "... Right?"

"Not hardly. However..." Putting his feet under him and stepping away from the fence, the Ascian looked down at her with a smirk. "-You- will be our not-so secret weapon. Should Thancred require it, do be a dear and defuse him will you?"

She nodded, and as the elezen shifted off the fence to fall into step beside them, they all made their way back to the Bookman's Shelves.

* * *

The Warrior glanced up as the door eased open. She and Thancred were seated by the fireplace, nursing their various bruises and a bottle of whiskey. She raised the glass in greeting, and winced slightly with the motion as it pulled something across her bruised ribs.

"Sorry about that." 

"'Tis hardly you who must needs apologize, little Monster." Picking his way through the mess, Emet-Selch ignored the gunblade that refused to look at him and instead settled into a crouch by the Warrior to inspect her for injuries. "Hmm. Black eye, you very nearly broke your nose..."

"It promises to be a shiner." She grinned slightly, offering him her drink. He took a solemn sip, before handing it back and when she accepted it he scooped his arms under her and picked her up easily. "Man, if a tiny-ass tussle like that is all it takes to get you to literally _carry_ me, then I gotta do this more often."

"Oh _hush_. What will people think, if they hear you say that sort of thing. I have a reputation to maintain, after all." Turning he swept along and made for the stairs and pausing partway up at the muttered 'sorry' that was grudgingly breathed by the gunblade. She shot him a warning look even as she rested her head against his shoulder, and he partially turned to look at Thancred, who was staring at his cup sullenly. "... Terribly sorry, but I missed that. Did you say something?"

The gunblade glared over at him, before it eased and he dropped his eyes back to the ground. "... I said I'm sorry."

Emet-Selch almost gave into the urge to blithely ask him whatever _for_, but the Warrior introduced her elbow to his chest in a pointed prod and he bit back the words. Instead, he thought about it diplomatically for a moment and hummed. "For what it's worth, I accept your apology-" Ryne, in the background, was giving him the most _hopeful_ look, and he heaved a sigh even as his shoulders rounded somewhat more than they usually were. "... And... Extend one of my own." 

That brought Thancred's eyes back up, and they widened as the Ascian glanced down to the baffled woman in his arms before looking away. 

"What. I _am_ mature enough to admit when I err. We have _both_ been goading one another when not pretending the other did not exist ever since Amaurot, and 'tis not as if I have made much of an attempt to broker _peace_ between us." 

Turning, he swept up the stairs as the Warrior shifted to send her baffled look around his arm to Thancred, who simply sat there with his jaw hanging open.


	43. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practice drabble  
Don't take it too seriously

She could feel him watching her. The outcast. The _loner_. The one that ran away. The miqo'te that refused cultural norms and ran off in search of something nobody thought existed. The crystals had been real. The cost, staggering. 

And now, now she was well and true alone. Except for whatever, exactly, it was that had chosen to _watch_. 

She had only caught a glimpse of him once or twice, but never a full silhouette. 

It might have been her mind playing tricks on her, the first time, but the second time she caught the shape in the blinding snow, she had rushed towards it and it had gotten _darker_ before vanishing. From then on, she padded through the blizzard, arms wrapped around herself, and shivering horribly in whatever direction she glimpsed it in. 

She found a random cave that way. A little cluster of rocks that had iced over, and she wiggled her way into the gap and stumbled, shivering, to the ground. The wind howled outside, wailing and protesting the unseasonable cold, and she could do no more than huddle and shiver, praying, hoping she didn't freeze to death. 

She cursed herself, tail curled against her and ears flat against her hair. She should have grabbed more supplies, she should have stood her ground to fight and die when she had stumbled upon the beast's lair, she should have...

She shouldn't have listened to the shimmering voice. Only a _fool_ should have listened to the mysterious floating blue crystal. Ha. Haha. Ha. Haaaah.

She'd _failed_. Winter had come, as promised, as threatened, and she had failed to keep it at bay. All those lives lost, for a fever dream that wasn't even _real_.

A quiet sound drew her attention to the opening she had squeezed through, and she snapped her head up to stare out at nothing even as her teeth chattered. Nothing was there. Nothing but the wind and the snow. Yet still, she could feel the eyes on her. 

Shuddering, all she could do was curl into as tight a ball as she could, and hope that when the snow ended she hadn't died. 

* * *

Pale gold eyes watched the feline humanoid. 

The first time, he had gotten careless. The second, it had become a game. The last, his fingers had _slipped_, and it certainly wasn't -his- fault that she had followed him to the only shelter that had magically appeared across the iced over sea. 

She was dying. Malms and malms away from anything resembling food or shelter. The only way he could have made a difference was to move her himself or create food for her, and, well...

... No. No, he squashed that thought. This wasn't _her_, it was an incomplete puzzle that would be scattered and rebuilt in a matter of decades. 

But even if it _wasn't_ her, there was no need for the poor thing to suffer so terribly. For all that she hadn't been able to stop them, she had given them a good fight. A belated, last ditch run for their money. A good effort. Not enough of one to make a _difference_, but a struggle nonetheless.

And now? Her time was up, the cold and wet had seeped into her bones, she would go to sleep and pass peacefully. Fragment zero, Ascians... 

... It didn't matter. He put the number out of his mind. Instead, he counted the slow moments as they passed, watching the way her soul started to drift as she slowly succumbed to the cold. He watched the way she dozed, the way she didn't stop shivering, pulse slowing. He studied his own sorrow, held it up to the light in salute in honour of a lost cause, drank deep of his own suffering and swallowed the bitterness down so that it warmed him with it's wretchedness. 

He did nothing. He could do, nothing. His hands remained limp at his sides as he watched her through his red mask that bore pale crescent marks and touched his cheeks. He floated there, wind tugging at the trailing portions of his dark robes, hood pulled down, and watched while her breathing faltered as he refused to act. 

It had yet to get _easier_. 

But this was the _enemy_. He could tell himself that, hold that half-truth tight to his chest, Zodiark's power curling through him to remind him that like those who's memories he carried, she was just. A. _Shade_.

Empty. Hollow. Meaningless in it's ephemeral state. 

A faint flicker of aether, and another portal had opened. Lahabrea, he recognized, and together the two of them held vigil. 

"Not long now."

He hummed, the sound as much of an answer as the Speaker would get. 

"You built her a house. How quaint."

No response, beyond the rolling of his eyes. A large part of him hoped he might just shut up, but, well, with a title like _that_... 

"Why do you torture yourself like this?"

Of course he would ask. He'd never truly _understood_. He personally hadn't either. He still didn't. But he was closer, he felt, than he had been. It had something to do with _love_. A bitter word. A cursed word. 

"Maybe next time, we could find her early on and train her like a pet. At least then she'd be _useful_." 

The body in the shelter succumbed to the cold, and he found himself hating Lahabrea just that much more. 

"Finally. I thought that one would _never_ die. I- Emet-Selch?" The Speaker watched him drift over to the shelter, prise off the top and then reach in to collect the body. "Emet-Selch, what are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"Wha-?"

But he was gone, nothing but the howling wind and a temporary, broken home left to keep him company.

* * *

Every Ascian had their own little _space_ on the Source. His was a cavern, as far away from anything remotely resembling civilization as he could get it and carved into the very bedrock. It had started as a private project to while away the eons. Elidibus was the only one who knew roughly where it was, and even then he deliberately kept changing the location of the door so that his solitude might remain complete until the Emissary somehow managed to find it again. 

The barrier tingled faintly as he stepped through it, and he felt secure in the fact that the field generator was working marvelously. Slowly, carefully, he bore his prize along the carpeted, hand-hewn and carved halls. Down a spiral staircase, across a hall and to the left. He walked through something that was, by all rights, an actual wall that had simply decided to stop being one in his proximity, and into a chamber filled with pillars of solid crystal. 

He found a patch of floor, and drifted upwards. Releasing the body, it spun slightly and straightened, arranging itself into a suggestion of peaceful repose even as, with a faint crack, crystal began to spread down from the ceiling and spike up from the floor. It grew around the body, securing it and holding it steady even as it thickened and completely sealed the corpse away, like an insect in amber. 

Drifting back down, he walked over to the armchair that sat in the center of the space the closest pillars occupied and seated himself, folding one leg over the other and resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, propping his chin up on it.

The latest in his macabre collection. 


	44. Lady Amandine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest beta, we die like friends  
Also, warning, this got... Sorta dark in spots. If torture makes you cringe, then, uhh... Wait for the next chapter, I guess.

He set her down on the bed and moved to the washbasin, tracing a finger along the inner edge and feeding the runes there just the lightest touch of his aether. It filled slowly with water, until he removed his finger and reached for a wash cloth and wet it, turning to face her. Catching sight of her expression, Emet-Selch blinked and then slowly turned to look behind him as if searching for something out of the ordinary, and then just as slowly turned back to her and quirked a brow. 

"I suppose I _should_ check you for a concussion while I'm at it."

"You _know_ that's not it."

He huffed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and start dabbing at the blood that had crusted along the bridge of her nose and then at the swelling that was slowly closing one of her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. 'Tis hard to take you seriously at any given time, exponentially more so with your face puffing out."

She snorted, carefully lifting the glass to take a sip before cradling it in her hands once more. "... Should I even ask what happened outside?"

"Nothing quite as exciting as you might hope. Several valid points were raised, a hypothetical conversation engaged in, and the elezen finished his tea. Chin up." She obliged him, and the Ascian tucked a thumb just under it so that he could tilt her face from side to side, studying her eyes. "Neither punch-drunk nor high on adrenaline. For all that one of your eyes will be swollen nigh shut come the morrow, your pupils are the same size and react to light appropriately."

"Not the first time I've been punched in the face." She grinned slightly, and it grew as he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. Thancred and I used to do this all the time. Neither've us really wanted to hurt the other, otherwise we've drawn blades. It's a catheric way to work through angry issues." 

"Cathartic, little Monster. If you are determined to at least attempt to at least sound smart, please try to ensure you have the correct words. Catheric isn't even a _word_." He tisked before setting aside the cloth and starting to work on her coat, sliding it off her shoulders and then tossing it aside once she pulled her arms free. A moment later and he was pulling her short sleeved shirt up over her head and studying the bruising that was already forming across her side. A gentle touch, and he nodded slowly. "No broken or cracked ribs. Remarkably few injuries beyond cosmetic and minor."

"What can I say, we're both professionals." A slight shrug shifted her shoulders, and she winced slightly as he tugged on the edge of the bindings across her chest, easing the small thumb dagger and it's sheath from between her breasts and setting it aside so that he could start removing the garment. "Twelve, the look on your face when you finally found that last one..."

"Yes, yes, it was _hilarious_. Arms up." The cloth was removed as she obliged, and he narrowed his eyes at the way she grimaced before setting it aside and starting to feel at her shoulder. "You always tend to favour this shoulder." 

"Ow-_ow_, stoppit." She swatted at his hand, grimacing, and he raised it in a gesture of surrender. She reached up to cup a hand over the shoulder, rolling it slowly and looking exasperated. "Yeah, there's bloody _shrapnel_ stuck in it. Echo healed over it and I'm too much've a _wuss_ without adrenaline to dig it out myself. Leave it 'lone, yeah?"

"Shrapnel? From what?" He leaned, inspecting the puncture scar as the Warrior rolled her eyes and finished her drink.

"_That_ story is gunna take a lot more booze, Magic Man." 

"_Magic Ma-?_ Another day then." He rolled his eyes and started on her boots, loosening the laces and removing them one after the other as she smiled softly at him. 

"Yeah. Another day." 

* * *

He wasn't there when she woke up, and she found it somewhat disturbing. Less because he was gone and more because that meant that he was getting sneakier, she was starting to sleep deeper or that sixth sense she had developed over the years had accepted him as 'decidedly not a threat'. Only one of these really worried her. She put the matter out of her mind and pushed herself up, making her way to the mirror so that she could study her reflection. 

Normally something she avoided. With the massive black eye that Thancred had given her, it was something of a necessity. She squinted, before heading over to crack the curtains open and then return, blinking in the smidge of light that now entered the room. 

Steely grey-blue eyes. A thicker than usual bridge to her nose, from a lifetime of breakage by way of bar brawls. Thin lips, a too wide mouth. Thick ashen blond eyebrows that matched the shaggy, unkempt hair. A pale sliver of a scar bisected the swollen eyebrow and dipped down to touch her cheek, another went across the swollen bridge of her nose. 

Twelve, but she thought she'd lost that eye when she got those. But that was a long time ago. Right then, she was staring at her _face_. 

She was a healthy weight. The Scions had tended to take turns making sure she _ate_ something, so she had long-since lost that slightly hollow cheeked look of malnutrition and hunger. Lifting a hand to cover the black eye, she let the muscles of her face relax and winced slightly at the dead-eyed stare framed by too many eyelashes that looked back out at her. A solid, square jaw. A small nose that only came to a slight point, like some sort of weasel's. 

A face evolved for punching. Idly, she flared her nostrils and ignored the way it twinged her nose.

Shaking her head slightly, she pushed herself up and turned away. The washbasin was filled with water, and she mentally thanked the Ascian that had likely left it for her even as she wondered at the lack of him. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, stilling herself and _listening_, finding only the quiet sounds of Urianger making tea downstairs. She didn't question how she knew it was him. To do so was similar to psyching herself out before a dangerous jump. It just wouldn't _work_ properly the next time. 

A clean cloth was found, and dipping it into the water the Warrior began to drag it over herself to remove the grime and sweat of the previous day and night. She ignored the texture of scars across her body, the way they dotted and marred her limbs and torso and felt a small smile curl her lips as instead she stared at the hunk of crystal still tied to her forearm. 

Twelve, but she was a fool in _love_. 

Relatively cleaner (her hair was still a mess, but something was instinctively nagging at her) she found her clothes had been cleaned and left in a pile on the chair beside the bed. The small smile grew, knowing that Emet-Selch had probably been the one responsible for it. A feeling of contentment spread through her when she thought about him folding them neatly and then huffing before he shook them out and piled them haphazardly in place because she liked them better that way. It was the little things in life, and wouldn't have been the first time. 

It didn't take her long to get dressed. In a matter of moments she had cinched the final belt around her waist, and headed for the door. Pausing with her hand on the latch, she idly thumbed across the metal and focused on that tiny, instinctive _something_ that was niggling her. 

She wasn't being _watched_. No, that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and felt like a slight weight across her back and shoulders. This, this was _lower_. This was along the length of her spine. This was... She didn't know what it was. It was making her unconsciously straighten her posture. Wary, but not agitated. Defensive. 

She turned away from the door, opened the window and left that way, immediately feeling just the slightest bit better as she did. Hitting the ground, the Warrior tucked her mask into place, tied the scarf off so that it wouldn't slip free from around her neck, and set off at a jog away from the Bookman's Shelves. It didn't take long before the feeling along her spine prickled, a sure sign that she was getting near. 

Metal rang against metal, and she knew she had found it. Specifically, the explosive sound of _Thancred's gunblade_. Her jog broke into a run, and she hit the edge of the woods to find-

Emet-Selch, picking himself out of a thorned berry bush and snapping the shield up to catch the Scion's weapon and shove back. Stepping forward, he flicked the sword out and up, just barely missing Thancred as he threw himself back before dashing back in to swing and miss as the Ascian _ducked_ and then came back up, surging ahead with the shield and shoving him back again. 

She settled partially behind a tree, stifling the urge to pace and letting herself slip into the patient mindset that had let her perch on rooftops for _hours_ without so much as a twitch. 

The white-haired hyur was controlling his breathing, sweating with his exertions and a contrast for the unruffled Garlean that kicked his armored boot free of the last of the bramble patch, before he set himself defensively once more. Their expressions were mirrored, narrow-eyed determination though that changed as she watched. Emet-Selch had begun to smirk, just a little bit, as if he couldn't help himself in contrast to the scowl on his opponents face. 

"Solid form. I can see how you gave Ran'jit a run for his gil."

"You'd know, wouldn't you. She told me Vauthry was _your_ fault." Thancred took a moment to reload, before snapping the chamber shut and easing the weapon onto his shoulder. The Ascian was quiet for a moment, before sighing and shifting into a neutral stance. 

"He was. While within the womb, his parents eagerly agreed to bind a Lightwarden to the boy. The greed of the father, the desire for their uncontested rule. My only part in it was the offer and the binding. They did the rest quite by themselves." 

"You exploited an opportunity." The Scion narrowed his visible eye, swinging the barreled sword around to point it at Emet-Selch as he rolled his eyes in return. 

"I did." The Ascian admitted, lifting his blade and tapping the flat of it idly against his shoulder. "At the time t'was what was required. You and the Scions are something of a group of experts at exploiting opportunities yourselves, or so I have come to understand."

"Would you do it again? Right now, if you could? Or is there even the semblance of a shred of _regret_ within you for that." 

"So many questions, yet none of them the right one. I can see why you and my little Monster are-"

"She isn't a _monster_. Not like you." The gunblade tucked his weapon against his shoulder once more, glowering.

"_-Please-_," The word contained as much exasperation as Emet-Selch could layer it with, before he continued. "I wholeheartedly agree with you but she prefers it when I call her that. 'Hero' riles her ire, and 'Warrior' is just so _boring_."

"She has a _name-_"

"She has _thousands_." A smug look crossed the Ascian's face, before he almost lazily drawled. "_Many_ of them unknown to -you-. Only one, that truly matters..."

"Right. Time to wipe that smirk off your face." Surprisingly politely, Thancred waited for Emet-Selch to lift the shield before he charged in.

* * *

"I presume you have questions."

The Ascian had found a rock to sit on, and was resting the shield against his leg even as he shook sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead. He was addressing the clearing that Thancred had left only a few minutes ago, and waited a few moments for the Warrior to finally step around the tree she had hidden behind. She looked thoughtful, and pulled one of the flasks from her person so that she could amble over and offer it out. 

"Ho boy, do I _ever_. Dunno where to start though." She frowned faintly as he accepted the flask and opened it, taking a swig and then eyeing the contents. 

"Water?"

"I've gotta find booze to refill it with." She offered him an apologetic smile, before leaning in to inspect his armor. Dirt and ash smudged, there were a series of scratches along the sides of his armor that spoke of glancing blows plus two long, solid creases in the battered metal of his breastplate. "How many of these were on purpose to let him wear himself out?"

"T'would be telling, little Monster. Reward me, for I have toiled long and hard on this day for the sake of public relations." Taking another sip from the flask, he blinked as she promptly sat on his lap and kissed him on the cheek. "A good _start_. You value your kisses too highly if you think that singular one will do. I didn't even ask for a _bribe_ before accepting his offer to spar, and fully prepared for him to attempt to end me."

"Alright then. I'll reward you by answering any three questions honestly, without reservation, whenever you want to ask them plus one shoulder-shrapnel story." 

He considered her offer, and then weighed the potentials of the story against her kisses before offering his counter. "... And a dozen kisses."

"I think you value my kisses too lowly if you think throwing in a dozen of them will make little to no difference." She folded her arms, lifting her chin and fighting the grin that threatened to curl the corners of her lips. "From what I can tell most of you and him sparring was so you could try and learn him and understand him a bit better. Really, you're coming out ahead no matter what I give you."

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid." He huffed, before wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest so that he could nose through her hair, inhale deeply and sigh. "... Three questions, your offered story, a dozen kisses and I balance the scales by cleaning myself and voicing a possibility I struck upon regarding our moral dilemma."

"Sold." She tipped her face up to kiss along his chin once, twice, and then blinked as a faint look of focus crossed his features and his hand shifted from her waist to snap his fingers. "Did you just magic yourself?"

"I did." He gave her a smug smirk, and she leaned in to dramatically sniff him. Pale gold eyes rolled at that. "-Please_-_, what are you, some sort of mutt?"

"You never know, I could be. Wolf in person's clothing." She grinned at him, before settling against his breastplate once more. "Usually people smell of whatever soap they use, but you usually have that after-rain smell. It can't be soap, you didn't use any, but you still smell like it."

"Petrichor? Well, if it _offends_ you-" The Ascian's face had twisted into scowl before she shifted in his lap to briefly kiss it away.

"No! Nono, I like it. But now I've got _more_ questions. Later, though, right now I was about to tell you the shoulder-shrapnel story, even if it's one I don't generally care to share. I was a _fool_, an _idiot_ and if I'd been alone, I'd've been _screwed_." She managed a smile, before clearing her throat. "Alright. Long time ago..."

* * *

Her name had been Lady Amandine. Rumours and reports had spread about how she was snatching young maidens to bathe in their blood and hold rituals at the behest of masked men in an effort to recover the beauty that had been stolen from her. Of course, the Warrior had volunteered to be kidnapped. What was the worst they could do to her, kill her? Haaah.

Oh, now naive she had been...

The others had promised to watch over her from afar, and so she gussied herself up and flounced around until her world abruptly went black. She only came back to herself, pained and light headed an estimated week later to find herself hanging from a ceiling over a tub filled with her own blood, a meat hook sunk through her foot to anchor her upside down and the Lady Amandine herself floating in front of her with an absolutely delighted look across her face. 

"Oh, but look at you. I _killed_ you, yet here you are..." The cooing voice was coupled with a clawed hand that reached out, caressing the side of her face. She jerked back, unsettled and grunting at the flare of pain from where she dangled, before testing the way her hands were bound together behind her back. 

"Shoulda... I shoulda gone with plan be." The Warrior's words drew a high titter of laughter before two skeletal servants hauled the basin away and tucked an empty one under her. 

"With _you_, I get to do this again, and again, and again..." Those claws came out, caressing her throat, and a wet tearing pain followed them before her world plunged into darkness once more. 

She woke up again, naturally. Naked and alone this time, face and hair crusted with her own blood where it had obeyed gravity and drained down into the tub below her. For all that she was lightheaded, an ugly anger had started to burn through it as it spread through her, and this time when she tested the ropes that bound her hands she felt them give almost immediately. Tucking away the question of how many times she had died while she had been out to grant her the level of strength she had at that time, she let her eyes search the dark room. A bend, a curl, and she was hauling herself up her own leg to get to the meat hook so that she could manually tear her foot free of it. 

It was an understatement to say that it hurt. She grit her teeth, swung, and let go to land next to the tub even as she took the pain that radiated up her leg and threatened to white out her senses to feed it into _rage_. She stepped to the door, grasped the metal of the bars and _pulled_. 

They obligingly bent with a creak, and as she exited into the hallway red eyes lit up the darkness around her as skeletal staff turned and raised their swords. 

She took a breath, let it out slowly, and intercepted their charge with one of her own. A shift to the side got her free of the swords, and she picked the one on the left for her lunge. Fingers closed around the bones of their arms, and she shifted and braced so that she could haul and sweep the one she had a grip on across and into the second. Aim thus soiled, the second's sword whistled past her and she tore the arms out of their sockets of her grappled captive so that she could claim it's blade for herself. A hacking slash as she held it by the rib cage separated it's skull from it's neck, and the whole thing went down so that she could turn and face the second.

She took it's sword, too, before starting to limp her way through the mannor. The lock on the door marked by a carnation gave away before her, and she stared at the various implements scattered about the room before locking her eyes onto the imp and the armed skeleton that guarded it. It stared back at her, before shrieking and launching into spellcasting. 

A snarl curled her lips, and she surged ahead. 

The next time she awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, her hands were bound above her head by chains and she felt something hard and rough against her back. Blinking, she looked around and caught sight of Lady Amandine and the plush furniture around what could only have been described as a massive bedroom. 

"Well now, look who walks among the living once more~." The cooing voice drew her attention back to the floating, drifting woman and the rippling, cloak-like wings that propelled her across the room. There was a soft, gentle smile across her face, and she reached out to try and caress the Warrior's cheek. 

Her smile vanished just as quickly as the half of the fingers the Warrior snapped her head forward to chomp down on, and she lifted her hand to mark the missing digits even as they were spat out on the floor. 

"My my, I shall just have to do something about that _temperament_ of yours." A wave of the Lady's hand and the fingers vanished from where they lay, reappearing in their proper places even as she started to smile once more. "What shall I start with? You seem ever so fond of _knives_, but then again I _do_ need to brush up on my crossbow skills..."

As she turned and drifted away to the table and the implements laid out, the Warrior looked up and tested the chains. They gave slowly, and she slowly wiggled her toes as she grit her teeth and pulled. A soft titter from across the room was the only warning she had before a metal bolt punched through her shoulder and stapled her to the upended table she was bound to. Hissing in pain, she snapped her gaze across to the floating figure as Lady Amandine let a pleased smile curl across her face. 

"Oh please _do_ continue to struggle. You are just... _So_ much more lively than my other guests have been. Crying in despair, begging me to stop, asking why, why _them_, with the beauty they simply do not _deserve..._" She cooed and sighed, drifting closer and flicking the bolt and grasping it so that she could drag it around in a small circle. She was waiting for the gasp of pain, for the whimper, and her eyes widened in delight as she got a low growl instead. Carefully, the bolt was broken off so that Lady Amandine could flick her nose with the feathered end and then drive the broken shaft into her shoulder next to the other half of it. 

It went on for a while. She thought to kick, to fight, but all that did was get her legs manacled together. She learned then that no, her nails did _not_ in fact regrow when she came back, because that had been a _big_ disappointment to the Lady the next time she woke up. From then on she fed everything she was into anger, all her pain, all her fear, all her hopes and dreams and descended into unruly and rabid laughter.

In the end, the Scions rescued her. They had stormed the building with all the forces they could muster, and Thancred himself had picked the locks on the chains and manacles and taken off his coat to wrap her up in it, smuggling her delirious, damaged body out the back and away from the crowds. She learned she had been missing for six weeks, slept for almost a month, and spent the next two utterly drunk and pointedly not talking about it. She did, however, take a little bit more care with their plans from then on and learned a very, _very_ valuable lesson.

Even when she had wanted oblivion, it had only been a temporary thing. It wasn't a blessing, to be able to come back from the dead in the event of an accident. 

It was a _curse_.

* * *

Emet-Selch stared at her, at the Warrior where she was tucked under his chin against his chest, arms folded loosely where they were settled on her lap. For the most part, her recounting had been idle and lacking in any great amount of emotion one way or another, but her soul... It had curled into a bitter, ugly, twisted mass that felt _wrong_, that was all pointy, sharp edges. _Envenomed_ seemed to be the word that came to mind, lined with an acidic, venomous remembered wrath that sickened her with it's intensity. 

He knew he wasn't much better. His hands had balled into fists the longer she went on, even as the air around them darkened as his roiling aether tainted it. No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk about it. She had probably thought of digging into the shoulder to prise out what he presumed to be part of a crossbow bolt and then balked at the recollection of how she had gotten it. Making up his mind, he shoed her off his lap and then adjusted how he was sitting so that he could pull her back down, this time straddling his thighs and facing him. 

She was staring at him questioningly, roused slightly from the prickly mass her soul had rolled into, but remained silent as he removed his gloves and set them aside. Hands thus unencumbered, he worked on the ties of her coat and pulled it open before hooking two fingers over the collar of her short sleeved shirt that she wore beneath it. Carefully dragging it aside to reveal her shoulder, he lifted his other hand and smoothed his thumb across the close-set puncture scars that sat there. 

The Warrior swallowed slightly, looking away before sucking in a breath as his soul gently, carefully nudged reassuringly against hers. 

A faint crackle of aether lined his fingers before the long-nailed, pointed glove of his Ascian robes manifested, and ever so delicately he tucked his index and middle fingers together before slowly sliding them into her flesh. She didn't tense, didn't flinch, only lowered her head to let it rest against his shoulder as he dug and searched, the faint tingle of aether radiating out as he sought the foreign, inorganic material that remained. It wasn't long until his claws scraped against it, and deftly altered the angle of his hand to ease the elongated nail of his thumb into the freely bleeding wound. Middle and index fingers separating slightly, he carefully hooked all three claws around the sliver of metal and slowly dragged it out. 

Her soul trembled, even as her body remained still. 

He flicked the offensive reminder of that horrible, horrible time away, and rocked gently from side to side as she ever so quietly sniffled. 


	45. Halmarut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go, surprisingly, entirely according to plan for once.

"Of all of the Ascians, I believe the one we ought to start with is not Elidibus at all, but a member of the lessers. Halmarut, to be exact."

"Any particular reason?" The Warrior glanced over at him, nursing her shoulder as they walked back to the Bookman's Shelves. He hummed quietly in response. 

"As much as I should like to think that cutting the head off this proverbial snake will kill it, I am rather more fond of sweeping the weaker pieces from the playing field and gathering our own forces. Elidibus is a patient individual, persuasive and persistent, and rarely makes the wrong move. However, rarely is hardly _never_, and when an opportunity is unable to prevent itself such can be manufactured. You are familiar with how Zodiark's tempering looks. All that must needs be done is for one to be secured that you might make the attempt. 'Tis also the fact that I should like you to practice more before striking Elidibus so. He and I are the last of the Unsundered." 

"So you really don't like this Halmarut then?" She turned her gaze back to the hills they were ambling over, keeping an eye on where they were going.

"As _boring_ and law abiding as he tends to be, I do not dislike him. He was one of the more fair-minded of the group. However, his specialty was the weaving of aether itself. Not the Lifestream, but the general overview and application of spellwork. He would be a _phenomenal_ individual to start with. Even fragmented." Emet-Selch folded his arms, drumming the fingers of one hand against his arm. "'Tis also the individual that Elidibus tasked with observing us."

"Wait- No, if you're mentioning him that means either he's already left again or you've been actively doing something to make it so he can't hear what we're saying." She squinted over at him, and Emet-Selch nodded. 

"While he _is_ a talented individual, I rather out do him in terms of sheer power at the moment. If he had been an Unsundered, I will admit that I would very likely have never been able to notice him. The Weaver currently lingers upon the cliffs beyond the Bookman's Shelves." The Ascian blandly waved towards the building they were approaching.

"Seven hells, what kind've range do you _have_ on that sense?" The Warrior stared at him, faltering a step before hurrying a pace to catch up. "No wonder you said I was basically _blind_."

"You _are_ basically blind, little Monster. Range unfortunately gets just a smidge _tricky_ with the variables. How strong is the presence? Is it smothered or otherwise hidden? How much attention are you paying? What, precisely, are you looking for? Are you doing an ilm by ilm sweep in a radius, or have you spread your focus over a wide range?" Smirking, Emet-Selch reached out to tap her on the nose. "How much interference is there? Are you distracted? Are _they? _Do their abilities grant them any special traits or edges that may be applicable? 'Tis far more to it than simply looking in a direction and scanning the horizon. And I only know 'tis Halmarut because I know what to look for."

"What's that, then?" She tilted her head as his smirk grew into a sly grin. 

"Imagine, if you will, ambient aether as a _mist_. From there, imagine it being drawn ever so carefully to a specific location as it is slowly utilized, yet subtle investigation turns up nothing of note. _Something_ lingers there that does not wish to be found, and of all that I have seen and studied over the eons, the only individual capable of such a thing with such subtlety would be _Halmarut_." 

"... It took you a day to find him, didn't it." She grinned, and he pouted even as she elbowed him in the side. 

"Oh _hush_ you. As if _you_ could have done any _better_. There are only a few things we would need to do. Firstly, prevent his escape. Secondly, ensure you can find him. Thirdly, sunder his tempering." Making their way around the building, the Ascian made it to the door first and opened it for her, stepping in after her.

"Right, I'm assuming he can probably hide from the mask you made for me, which makes it harder." She glanced around, noting Urianger was sitting at one of the tables and blinking at them. "Good news is, we're not alone. I think, if you can manage to keep him from getting away, and I can handle cutting the tempering out of him, that I know just who to turn to for piercing his illusion. Only question is whether it can be done at range or not. Urianger, I need your linkshell for a moment."

The elezen obligingly unclipped it from his ear, handing it over as she approached. She clipped it into place, and then licked her lips before she began. 

"Hey, Exarch. Eh? Oh, yeah I'm doing fine. Listen, I've got a favour to ask. What's your range on disrupting illusions with the power of the Crystal Tower behind you?" She listened for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Right, right, yeah, I figured, but can you center something like that on me? Nah, nothing dangerous. Ascian hunting, is all. I'll tell you more about it later, alright?" 

She beamed suddenly, before looking at Emet-Selch and giving him a big ol' thumbs up.

* * *

The Architect pitied the Weaver, he _truly_ did. He had built the Crystal Tower, and after a brief conversation with the Tia where he walked him through, step by step, exactly how to gain the maximum draw in addition to how to access the untapped reserves he knew fully the strength that would be brought to bear. After that, it was simply a matter of deciding how they all would get up there. The Warrior was fond of the idea of just going up with a picnic basket, but Urianger gently convinced her that that would probably just make their target leave the immediate area as carefully as he could. 

Emet-Selch had huffed and said he could teleport them up there, considering after that his job would simply be to counter the Halmarut's casting. The astrologer patiently explained that he was still, regrettably, weakened and then was quick to add that he wasn't going to suffer any long term effects from her work. It had taken the Architect some time to recover, and he was a hale and robust soul. Naturally, it would take the elezen more than a handspan of days. 

She sullenly looked out the window at that. 

"Now then, when the Exarch strikes, I would recommend that you have your mask settled above your eyes, as opposed to over them. Otherwise you will be blinded by his efforts." Emet-Selch reached over to idly tap her mask, and she blinked before reaching and angling it up. It remained as she left it, sticking out on an angle as if it sat on invisible hinges. "... Close enough. Now then. Shall we give the signal to the Exarch and begin?"

"Begin what." Thancred leaned in through the window, arms folded as he eyed the three at the table. 

"I've begun collecting Ascians, Thancred. We're off to capture and de-temper the one that's nearby. You want in?" The Warrior leaned back on her chair, and couldn't help the goofy grin that crossed her face as the seat tilted smoothly. Beside her, Emet-Selch wove his fingers together and tried not to look too pleased with himself. 

He narrowed his visible eye, before hanging his head and sighing. "I might as well. Who knows what you might get up to without me. What does the plan look like?"

* * *

From the outside, it all looked pretty boring. They were rapidly shunted from the Shelves to the top of the cliff, where the Architect stiffened and frowned with a vague look of focus and concentration before the grass rippled and a man popped out of nowhere a dozen fulms away. He let out a startled sound, twisting to stare at them before stepping backwards. The air around him rippled, Emet-Selch soundlessly moved his lips as if he was talking, and Thancred hit the distracted Weaver with a full body tackle. 

He went down heavily, wheezing, the ripple vanishing. 

Shifting to the side, both hands bunched in the black robes, the Gunblade shifted to his knees and shook the rattled man even as the air rippled around him once more. "None of that now."

The Warrior ambled up, flourished the sword, and prodded it against his chest. Halmarut stiffened, before his eyes rolled back into his head. The air rippled once more, and the Architect tutted softly to still it. 

Silence reigned as they all glanced around, expecting more. 

"Well. I mean, I guess that's... That's it, then? All that's left is for him to wake up?" The Warrior peered down at the Weaver, sheathing the sword she had drawn and then blinking over at the smirking Ascian that had brought them there. 

"Precisely, little Monster. Well done, all of you."

"I guess... That means back to Urianger's, then." She smiled, before looking over at Thancred, who sighed and hauled their potential new ally over his shoulder and made his way back to the Architect.

* * *

"He doesn't really look like much, does he." 

They'd sat him on a chair in the main room, without bothering to tie him up. Considering he could teleport, really the only thing keeping him there was Emet-Selch so it was something of a moot point to do so. Instead, everyone had drawn up chairs to sit around in a semi-circle in front of him. All that his mask revealed was a well kept, clean white mustache and beard that was trimmed short. Twice now, the Warrior had tried to ease over, and each time Emet-Selch cleared his throat pointedly. The third time, he heaved a sigh, got up, and hauled her back to his seat so that he could drag her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her from behind. 

Now, she was comfortably leaned back against him as he rested his chin on her shoulder and idly studying him from afar. 

"How long do you think it might be, before he wakes up?" Ryne fidgeted on her chair, swinging her legs and looking towards Urianger. The elezen lifted a hand to his chin, canting his head to the side as he thought about it. 

"I was struck unconscious for a handspan of hours. Emet-Selch, are thou aware of any reason by which this amount should not hold true to our guest?"

"Hmm. Although we take longer to recover our aether simply because we naturally use more of it, our souls are hardy, sturdy things. Factoring in his fractured state, however..." Trailing off, the Ascian sighed and stretched one hand out. "... This is _boring_ me, and the collective impatience of all of you combined is _irksome_. Let it never be said that I have done nothing for you, and _never, _-ever- do this to me." 

He snapped his fingers, and the body jerked, starting awake with a pained grunt as the Weaver brought both hands around to his chest and curled. 

"Why, what'd you do to him?" The Warrior twisted around to peer at him, and then look towards Halmarut as the sundered Ascian wheezed and shuddered. 

"In summary? Slapped him. You recall how _that_ felt."

She grimaced, and nodded, before running a finger along the center of the mask. Her eyes disappeared behind the black fields that granted her aetheric sight, and whistled lowly. "How _hard?_ Poor guy, looks almost like you scrambled him."

"I have my reasons." There was a hint of sullen, possessive defensiveness to his tone, and Emet-Selch tightened his grip around her waist even as he turned his face into the cook of her neck.

"I'll have to ask about those later. Meantime... Halmarut. Eyes front and center, yeah?" She waved a hand as the noticed their _guest_ was starting to at least look like he was recovering. Black eyes blinked at her, somewhat unfocused. "Morning. Understand that I'm not trying to be cruel when I ask you how you're holding up. You alright there? Want anything? Tea? We've got lots of tea."

"You're confused. Good and bad." She cracked a smile as he didn't answer and chose instead to slowly look around at his surroundings, taking in the chair he was seated on and the faces lined up in front of him. "Don't worry. I'm not the type to say your options are little or none. You may not realize it, but I've actually done you something of a favour." 

"You attacked me." His voice was low, hoarse, and he turned his face towards her to resume his study. "... The Fourteenth. How curious."

"Had to, sorry. You were batting for the enemy and spying on us. _Nice_ spellwork, by the way. Weaver is as Weaver does, I suppose. You may have noticed that I've sundered your tempering away. Means you're free now. Free to make your own choices, free to help us, free to go back, so long as you make that choice and aren't forced one way or another then my job's done. But." The Warrior lifted one hand, pointing first to Emet-Selch, and then to each of the people in the room. "Everyone here? We're all working for the same thing you were, after a fashion. We just want to do it in a way that doesn't mean mass genocide and the death of _countless_ lives." 

"Then work with us." Halmarut was straightening slightly in his chair, one hand still on his chest but the other had lifted to habitually stroke through his beard somewhat. "The cost-"

"Is _pointless_. It's an utter waste. I'm going to free everyone from Zodiark, even the souls that went into His creation, and find a way to complete your Ardor without everyone dying. I'm going to find a way to balance the Star, so that what happened before doesn't happen again. But I can't do it with what I've got. We just don't have the _oomph_. So work with me. _Help_ me. We traded the finer points on things like Flow in the past. You're _smart_. Think of what we could do, working together."

Emet-Selch stiffened slightly, splitting his focus between Halmarut and the Warrior. He hadn't noticed her cringe, had an Echo-?

Oh. _Ohhh._ Everything was _aligned_, just the way he remembered, with faint shimmers of silver ghosting the outline of the rest of her where the missing pieces used to be. There was strain there, and the excess aether for the connections seemed to be coming from the Blessing, where it was feeding into her core and then doubling back out, changed into _her_.

"I told you, all of you, that it was a _shit_ idea." Her eyes narrowed under the mask as she stared Halmarut down. The Weaver had leaned back in the chair, eyes wide. "I _warned_ all of you. Looking back, what you can remember, what you've been told, you _know_ that I was right. So help me _fix_ this mess, Halmarut."

"I don't know how, but you have created quite the facsimile, Emet-Selch." 

"Oh, she is _quite_ real, I assure you. You can take my _word_ for it." The Architect shuddered, heart singing in his chest even as she shook her head and gently pried his arm from around her waist.

"Right. Enough of this. You want solid proof? Fine." Making her way over, she cupped a hand by her mouth and leaned in to murmur something, and Halmarut straightened abruptly and snapped his gaze over to her. The Warrior folded her arms, and gave him a _look_. "How, in all of creation, would I know _that_ otherwise?"

The Weaver cleared his throat slightly, and looked away. "... And if I choose to think on it."

"Then I'll still think you're _smart_. Smart enough to know that if you go against me and mine, that I'm not going to take it laying down. Things _die_. But on the scale Elidibus and Zodiark want, it's wrong. You knew it then, Old Bird, you know it still, and it's not something you're going to forget. Lovely, ease up. If he wants to go, let him." She turned towards Emet-Selch, who inclined his head and _stared_ at her as if entranced. She gave him a patiently amused smile in return, before tilting her head slightly towards the door, and he inclined his head once more and vanished in a ripple of gathered darkness. "Consider this my olive branch, Halmarut. If you're not with me, then you had best stay out of my way." 

The Warrior turned towards the door, leaving the sundered Ascian with the two Scions and Ryne who stared at her in bafflement. 

* * *

She closed the door behind her, and let a pleased smile cross her face as Hades swept in from the side to push her the few steps around to the side of the building before pressing her against the wall. He drew in a shuddering breath, even as he settled his hands on either side of her head and wove his fingers through her hair, pressing his forehead against her own. She chuckled softly, bringing her hands up to cup the sides of his face. 

"Hydaelyn's Blessing. She adjusted it, after the potentiality discovered atop Eden was explained to her. It's not _stable_, Lovely, but-"

Hades shushed her with his lips on hers, devouring her mouth hungrily even as he dragged his hands down her neck and thumbed along the line of her jaw. He only broke away for air when he felt her soul reach out, brushing ever so gently against his own and he dropped his hands to her hips and shook his head. 

"Save your strength, Persephone. How long...?"

"A few more minutes, at most. Take care of me, while I recover from the toll?" She slid her arms under his so that she could wrap them around his waist, hands settling at the small of his back as she turned her head and pressed her face against his chest. He nodded slowly, burying his face in her hair and enfolding her aether with his own. "Hades..."

"I know what you would say." Drawing a slow, careful breath he gently nuzzled his cheek against her. "Can... Can you forgive me, for the terrible sin I have commited? I should never have... I should never have said-"

"My Lovely, you suffered for breaking my heart for eons. The only grudge I carry from that time is against the primal you helped create." She closed her eyes, resting against him, and he watched as each strand that outlined the shape of her completed soul frayed and snapped, dissipating. "... I love you. I have loved you, and I will _always_ love you. Those were the... The oaths of our Binding... Remember...?"

He held her as she went limp against him, supporting her as the last of the threads went dark and her soul dimmed, slipping into slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I keep throwing sad sappy stuff at the end of the chapters.  
Hmm.


	46. Chapter 46

"Thou hath kept vigil for three days. Go. Rest. I shall remain by her side." 

Urianger quietly closed the door behind him with his heel before stepping into the bedroom to nudge the tray he carried onto the nightstand. The ascian folded his arms and remained stubbornly seated on the chair he had pulled up to the side of the bed. 

"I am fully capable of resting while I watch-"

"Physically, yes. However, in the mental aspect of the word, thou shall only continue to accumulate fatigue. Go outside. Speak with Ryne. Spar with Thancred. Build something. Thy opportunities are nigh endless. Halmarut hath inquired after speaking with you." The elezen reached out to rest a hand atop Emet-Selch's shoulder, drawing the pale-gold gaze away from the unconscious form on the bed. "Go. She would not begrudge you an intermission."

"... You will stay here and maintain my work?" A brief nod indicated the ripple in the air, and he watched as the astrologian frowned faintly and focused. Senses open to the aetheric, he slowly nodded. 

"Layered thus, I can and will maintain such for a handspan of hours. Fret not, should aught become amiss thou shalt be the first that I call."

Emet-Selch stared at him for a long moment, before sighing and lifting his hands to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them in circles. Scrubbing them against his face, he reluctantly evicted himself from the chair and gave her one last look as he swept towards the door, collecting his long grey coat along the way. "The very first, boy."

The elezen shifted over and sat down, producing a small green book even as he delicately eased his aether into the spellwork that suffused the room to take over for the Architect even as the other slowly relinquished it to him. He didn't look up from the book until the door clicked shut, at which point he sighed, eyed the figure on the bed and studied what he could of her. 

"Halone's Fury, what didst thou _do_, that thus should be the price...?"

Sighing, Urianger shook his head and settled in to patiently wait. 

* * *

He would have tried to nap, but his mind kept churning and turning over the way each outlining thread had snapped. It hadn't been _perfect_, far from it, but for a moment she had _remembered_. Hydaelyn had been involved. That meant that there was only one place he was going to get answers-

"Architect." 

He tightened his walls, snugged his shields against one another, and turned to give Halmarut an utterly indifferent look. "Weaver."

"How is Eschaton?" The question came blandly as the sundered Ascian folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes. "You have obscured her well."

"Resting. 'Tis hardly easy, running around constantly, thwarting the plans of Zodiark's faithful." Folding his arms, Emet-Selch warily studied the other, pale gold eyes eventually meeting black set into tanned skin. "Come to give her your answer?"

"Yes. We all tried the path Elidibus offered, and look at the results. I would try hers. When might I speak with her?" Halmarut lifted his chin slightly, tone utterly polite as he glanced towards the house. 

"She is _resting_, Halmarut."

"I can understand your hesitation to let any of us close to her, after what happened to the last incarnation, but I assure you-"

"_No._" Emet-Selch felt his hands curl into fists, and slowly uncrossed his arms. "I have said she is resting. She will not see you until she so wishes to do so."

"She is still unconscious, isn't she." Halmarut lifted one hand to his beard, idly stroking it. "I saw it, the way her soul dimmed. Such speaks of utter exhaustion. Of course, you know this, you always were a bright one. If we had Igeyorhm... Bah. We don't. So we must work with what we have to support her as best we can, must we not?"

"You seem particularly _gung ho_ about being _helpful_, Halmarut. What did she say to you to convince you, I wonder?" Pale gold eyes narrowed as the Architect drawled and studied the walls around the Weaver's soul, though he didn't press and pry to find out what was behind them. 

"As one of the Sundered, my memories have always been... Lacking, compared to your own. You often spoke of this with disdain. What she told me..." Halmarut trailed off tucking a hand against his chest and kneading over his heart. "... It went through me, Architect. I may not be entirely convinced at her ability to complete the tasks she has set for herself but if anyone could do it, it would be her." 

"Very well. I don't suppose that our _favourite_ Emissary shared any of his plans with you by any chance, did he?" Quirking a brow, Emet-Selch folded his arms once more and tutted as the Weaver shook his head slowly.

"He did not. However... I may be able to find out. I doubt I could remain hidden from him for very long, however monitoring the others would not be impossible."

"Then I shall entrust the task to you, Halmarut. If nothing else, should you return with their locations it will make it easier to free them from their tempering. You may leave your vessel here, for the time being. If nothing else, it will be tended to and cared for. A test of trust, that goes both ways." 

The weaver nodded, before moving to sit down with his back against the wall. Black eyes closed and the body slumped. Emet-Selch wasted no time ambling out a little ways into the field and cupping his hands over his mouth. 

"Feo Ul! Come, I am bored! Let us two immortals compare art styles across an empty canvass!" 

A giggle rang out through the air, and he turned to slowly smile at the source of it.

* * *

The Warrior cracked open an eye. There was _pain_ somewhere, a dull throb of it, but nowhere all at the same time. She didn't understand it, and so she put it out of her mind as she studied the ceiling. Tilting her head to the side, she blinked at the Ascian that was staring at her, pale gold eyes thoughtful as they watched her in return. 

She lifted one arm and made a grabby hand at him, drawing a huffed sound of amusement even as he shifted from the chair and crawled onto the bed. Stretching out beside her and wrapping one arm across her waist even as he tucked his head against her shoulder, a quiet, content sigh escaped him next. 

"... For a moment, for just the teeniest of moments, I did something really _cool_ didn't I." 

"'Cool' she says... For a handspan of minutes, you transcended yourself and... You said that Hydaelyn had something to do with it." His voice was somewhat muffled by how he shifted to press a kiss against her clothed shoulder. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to _know_, wasn't certain if he wanted to dwell on whether there was a clean divide, if it was a matter of a ghost of the past or something else entirely.

"Yeah. When I talked to Her, we straightened a bunch of things out. She's not entirely on board with the plan, but She doesn't have much of a choice, so She gave me the portrait She was using to make sure She had all the parts of me and told me to be careful, 'cause if I end up in the lifestream again then that's pretty much it unless someone else can play 'fifty two pickup' and tag all the pieces." She started to card her fingers through his hair, eyes closing once more. "... We agreed it might be useful, used like a trigger for my Echo to remember... Well, myself. But it takes just a bit more than I've got on average."

"I _had_ wondered... This differs from Minfillia and Ryne, in that one was possessed by the other and inherited their strength. Yours is a controlled, sustained trigger of the Echo and a projection of those results. Is such not meant to be used in quick, short bursts?" Emet-Selch lifted his face enough to watch her face, eyes partially lidded and brows furrowing as she nodded slowly and had the grace to look sheepish. 

"Yep. Takes less that way. Probably why it knocked me on my ass like that, though I remember everything that happened. How long was I out?"

"T'was roughly four days ago, give or take some few hours. You are still... Less luminescent than your already damaged soul tended to appear." Bitterness coiled through him, and he didn't bother to keep it from his voice as he moodily tightened his arm around her midsection. "... I hate this. This... Inability to do truly do anything to finish _healing_ you. I well understand your reasoning, regarding the loss of life rejoining the shards, however..."

"I know, I know. You'd consider it worth it. You did, for a very long time." She cracked her eyes tiredly open once more so that she could look at him and smile softly. "Saying thanks doesn't seem like it'd cut it, to show how much I appreciate that you aren't. Even though you want to, so badly." 

"Hmm. Last time, I chose what I had considered the 'greater good' and look what that_ cost_ me. Now..." He shifted slightly, hesitating and propping himself up on an elbow even as he turned his face to press his lips against the inside of her forearm to stall. 

"Hard to choose between _the_ world and _your_ world. Let's hope it doesn't come down to that again, yeah? I'm not dead. I'm not dying any faster than I usually am. You're here, hale whole and hearty. On the topic of things that start with the same sound though, what happened to Halmarut?" The Warrior jostled him slightly, letting the smile that had curled across her face grow. "Did it work? Did we convince him to help?"

"Somewhat. I don't exactly _trust_ him. His goal is to scry upon the remaining Ascians to discern what sort of plan Elidibus has in the works, to which I will double check his findings and verify how accurate they _really_ are." Pouting, Emet-Selch let himself flop back onto her side and shoulder after she jostled him, smirking at the over exaggerated grunt she gave him with the impact and then settling contently as she started to shift her fingers through his hair again. 

"... Hades, I've got... A bad feeling about that. When I think about you going off to double check his work, I mean. Call me paranoid, but it's the same sort've feeling I had when Alisaie got snatched." 

"Then I will not go. 'Tis as simple as that. Your instincts have proven _remarkably_ accurate in this regard." The Architect shifted minutely, getting comfortable even as he closed his eyes and smiled faintly. "In the mean time, however, rest. I shall ensure your safety, my little Monster."

"You just want to have an excuse to use me as a pillow while you nap, don't you."

"Guilty as charged. It changes nothing, however."

She chuckled tiredly and closed her eyes, letting the contentment of the moment suffuse her and gently ease her into a nap of her own.

* * *

The faeries promised to keep an eye on the catatonic body of Halmarut, and in return they promised not to remove the great moustache of ivy that they had grown over Eden's face. Of course, they also warned that it might fall off on it's own, but the faeries had promised that they had done everything in their power to prevent that. In due course they loaded the skyslipper into Eden and then began the journey back out to the spot they had set up camp before. 

Thancred didn't complain, but that might only have been because the Warrior promised to properly help set up the camp again. No funny business, she promised. She even held her hands out for him to see that she wasn't crossing any fingers behind her back. 

In due time, they were hard at work (barring Emet-Selch, who for all intents and purposes appeared to be lounging in the shade) setting up tents and laying out some of the supplies they had brought with them for a fire. The skyslipper was unloaded, parked, and everything went back to normal. They briefly discussed if it should be Ifrit or Garuda that they summoned next, when the Ascian abruptly sat up and rushed into the center of the group. The reason why was plain to see, as he snagged the Warrior by the forearm and glared out as a series of void rifts opened around the perimeter of the camp. 

"Great. Just what I was hoping for." The gunblade lifted a hand to the weapon holstered across his back, herding Ryne behind him as Urianger backed away from the campfire and slowly set his star globe to over over one hand, joining them in the center of the ring of Ascians that had formed around them. 

There were five of them. Emet-Selch knew each mask that stared out at them. A faint whisper of sound heralded the arrival of the sixth, and he slowly turned and let go of the Warrior's arm now that he was certain they weren't attempting to snatch her. "Elidibus. To what do we owe the dubious honour?"

"Halmarut, when I apprehended him in my study, had quite the interesting tale to tell me." The Emissary folded his arms, staring at the group as they settled defensively in a cluster, Urianger in the center with his back against the Architect's. "Many interesting things, actually. That Eschaton is, in fact, her old self again. That the removal of the sundering is her work. I would speak with her."

"You realize I'm _right here_ right?" Hands on the hilts of her blades, the Warrior stared out at some of the black robed figures that seemed content to just stand there. Her words brought a quiet chuckle from Elidibus. 

"He was quite insistent that you had become whole. He thought you could protect him, and in the end... You weren't even there, for him to flee back to. I had thought Emet-selch to be cruel, but you... I suppose it simply ties in to that monstrosity that you created. Fetch your completed self. I should like to speak with her." The Emissary drifted around, orbiting the group so that he could face her properly. 

She glanced up to the Architect, who minutely shook his head

"Nothing to fetch." The Warrior turned her gaze back to Elidibus, shrugging. "It's all just me-"

Ryne let out a startled sound, sinking a few feet into the void rift that had opened below her before halting abruptly and starting to drift upwards as Emet-Selch tutted. Thancred reached out to haul her the rest of the way out, drawing his chambered weapon and glaring at the figures around them.

"Well now, _that_ wasn't very nice." The Architect folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Hostages? truly? Is this what we have lowered ourselves to, these days?"

"Simply attempting to incentivize our friend. I do so wish to speak with the Eschaton. 'Tis a matter of grave importance." Elidibus drifted back a little bit. folded his arms. "It concerns the future, how Hydaelyn is failing and fading. This child does not know enough of the details of the primal's birth to be of any use in this."

"-Please-, you seek to force her to capitulate by threatening her little friends." The Architect rolled his eyes, before unfolding his arms and letting them hang at his sides. "That simply will neither do nor work. It matters not how flowery you make your speech nor how convincing the argument-"

He had been waiting, preparing to counter the next rift cast among the group. The slight delay between switching targets from the group to a defensive attempt for himself was enough to get the streak of black and red Elidibus had cast out towards him inside his shield, inside his chest, and he wheezed and staggered as a familiar vise started to close around his heart.

"Then I suppose I shall simply have to make sure I have a bargaining chip that means something _special_ to her." 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, gore a little ways in.

Ever since Emet-Selch had done the most wonderful thing in the world for her and let her feel her soul, feel his soul, feel how they blended, the Warrior had been a little bit more aware of how her Echo worked. She could feel the edges of it, picture it in her mind and, if she focused very, _very_ hard, even roughly make out the way it spun in a gentle, lazy orbit about the core of her very self. Because of this, she was slowly, with each passing day, growing more and more conscious of what she could _do_ with it, just what parts of her it was connected to. 

There were several major ones. The Echo Pulse, as she called it, acted as a net that kept a constant 'portrait' of her saved, every few minutes, so that if she died it could surge through her and restore her to that state of being. She had, as best she could guess, two of these 'portraits' now. One of her body, and one of her soul. She knew that dying wouldn't restore her soul simply because the pieces were elsewhere and it would be like trying to get the butter that was spread thinly across one piece of toast to also spread across another. There just wasn't enough there to do it. 

The next one was what she privately called the Echo Flicker, which everyone else just called the Echo and was what gave her the flashes of memory that weren't her own, depending on the trigger. Depending on how long or intense the memory was, it generally didn't take really anything to fuel, unlike the Echo Pulse, which (without the crystals that reinforced the Blessing) would still very likely knock her out for a few hours. These two things both required less aether than the third, which she personally called the Echo Surge. 

That one, was constantly active. Of course, there were different stages to it, in that if she was dead asleep it only enhanced her senses and when she was in combat she could feel it practically dancing through her blood like it's own unique tide. It increased everything, dependent on how focused she was. She could use it to clear a twenty malm leap without a running start. She could use it to carry fully grown Roegadyn with one hand, provided they could balance on such a small surface. She could use it to tear metal between her hands as if it was paper. 

It hadn't always been like that. At the start, all it had done was make her physically faster, more passively perceptive and just a bit more durable. It enhanced her, and gave her the ability to perceive 'danger zones'. After the first crystal from the cave with Y'shtola, she had started being able to _listen_, to catch figments of movement through solid stone walls and directionally baffled her. It had also started giving her _feelings_, good and bad when she considered anything hard enough. Not all the time, just most of them. If she was looking for something, she could slowly turn in a circle and point in whatever direction she got the best tingle in her jaw from, and if she went that way usually she found what she was looking for. Hear, feel and think she had been bid. And so she unconsciously had.

The second crystal, the one from Ifrit, had doubled down on her endurance and strength. She had started to realize that she could, quite literally, run from Ul'dah to Girdania without actually getting -tired-, though she still felt the need to sleep. Once, she had tried to see how long she could go without it, and had learned after the fifth day that she could probably keep going indefinitely but that her focus suffered and she started hallucinating after the third day. There was also the matter that her appetite had increased exponentially. Y'shtola had said it had to do with how her body was trying to replenish itself, because it wasn't being allowed to rest. 

From the third, the gift of the Sylphs, the Warrior had gotten faster and had learned how to, as she called it, 'bolt'. Which was to say, run very quickly across a short distance. Sometimes, if she _really_ needed to, fast enough that people couldn't see her. Her perception was never good enough to do more than manage short, straight lines, until she had briefly met Godbert, but that... That came later. From the fourth that was recovered from Titan she received an incredible constitution, from the fifth the ability to shrug off attacks and her rate of healing basically doubled. A draconic hardiness and vitality.

From the sixth, from Garuda, she started being able to do all of it _better_. All six had begun to work properly together at that point, and when she got true and properly angry, it was then that she had learned she could peel panels of metal off of the sides of Garlean constructs. She had particularly unfond memories of literally tearing bits and pieces of armor off of Ultima as she dug for something _important_ to stab.

Of course, Midgardsormr had stripped all of that away from her, but she had earned every ilm of that power back. That was when she had caught the lesson she had missed with Ultima, in that it wasn't only her emotions that could amplify these abilities given by the Echo Surge, but also how much focus she put into it. She could shift a bit of power from one aspect to another, but it was horribly complicated to her and so she largely tried to avoid doing so unless she _really_ needed to. The Pulse and Surge were tied together in that should one go off, the other would, well, _surge_ and she would have that little bit extra to work with.

Now, after all she had been through, she learned that her tendency to absorb these crystals (and other types of aether, such as the Lightwardens and the tempering she had stolen, broken down and redistributed to her Blessing) was a form of Hydaelyn's enervation and that her Echo directly fueled the ability to sunder things. Initially, it had only been able to enhance how she could cut things. She knew better, now, especially as she was using it shave tempering off of people's souls. The last chat with the Mothercrystal had cleared a number of things up for her. She was learning, she understood a bit better how to properly balance herself to throw all of her Blessing into making her incredibly strong while retaining enough of it to also make a ninety fulm sprint in six seconds.

Of course, all of this came at a cost, considering it was _constantly_ active in at least some minor capacity. The way her aether flowed was all _wrong_ for casting, on account of all of it being dedicated to the utilization of the Blessing and the many aspects it held. She could take an item and cast _through_ it if she tried hard enough, but it always left her feeling just a little bit off as her aether corrected it's course back to the way it was before, the way it made her a physical _beast_.

In short, she was a _monster_. She couldn't be _stopped_, only slowed down. And when she got _angry_, everything she brought to bear had that little bit _more_ to it. 

Emet-Selch wheezed and staggered. She knew instinctively that it would take more than that to temper him properly, in fact if she had to hazard a guess he could probably get hit two more times with that and still (just barely) be fine. He could fight off the effects, though he would be slower, he would be fighting on multiple fronts when it came to the other Ascians and the darkness that had latched onto him like a _leech_. And if he kept getting hit, he would just keep getting slower, getting weaker. 

None of that mattered. Elidibus had tried to _take__ him from her_, and such was simply... Unacceptable. Intolerable. _Unforgivable_. She felt how everything within her aligned, her lungs expanded, and with that rush of air came _information_ as her Echo _flickered_ and tangled with the second 'portrait'. 

<strike> _She had already lost him once, so long ago. He had gone away himself and come back with a black heart. Her Lovely was being stolen away from her **again**. _ </strike>

Twenty six fulms distant. Four and a third fulms up. Two blades. It would take her target three seconds to get anything resembling a barrier or shield up, if he had reaction times like <strike>_her Lovely_.</strike>

She took the partial step out to get past the Architect before he even finished his exhalation, pivoted and _moved_. She closed the distance and_ raked_ both of those curved, nasty black blades up and across,_ into _the Emissary's chest, cleaving through robes, flesh, muscle and bone. Both blades passed through into the soft tissue, through intestine and stomach, through the diaphragm and lungs, sliding across the spine. As she struck, she had _struck, _not at his tempering but at_ him_, and while she could not Sunder him as Hydaelyn could have, she tore through his aether like it was wet paper and drew a howling scream that vibrated the air and darkened the immediate area with streamers of the void. 

She could _taste_ the fear in the air, a heady counterpoint to the exhilaration of her adrenaline kicking in and fueling her further. Fire bloomed around her, but what was it, when compared to the hellfires of Ifrit? It was nothing. Void surged around her, and she swung her offhand blade, tearing through the spell. She lifted one sword and brought it down on the shrieking mass, feeling the way the pain vibrated out from it, grinning at how the sensation vibrated pleasantly along her nerves. She felt like singing, like a butcher cheerfully would as they carved the ribs from a pig. She brought the sword up again, and paused as a _presence_ vibrated through the air behind her. 

She could _never_ hurt him like this. To do such was _unthinkable_. There simply wasn't an urge to turn and bring the blade down against him. Only a mild curiosity as <strike>_her Lovely_</strike> wrapped both arms around her from behind. He was _fear__-shock-denial_, and she peered at him in utter bafflement as he shouted at her. She almost didn't understand the words, but they came from _him_ so they were important enough to dwell on and puzzle out. 

_"You're killing him!"_

Well, yes. Of course she was. Last time, he had gotten a free pass because she had still respected him. Because she thought that maybe, one day in the future, they could talk things out. But for him to instead repeat the mistakes of the past-

_"You said we would save them, save them all!"_

She blinked at that, softening at the _hope-shock-pleading_ that he wrapped around her. The tempest that had surged through her lessened, and the Echo flickered once more, untangling from the second portrait as it lost that extra surge of strength from the wrath that had consumed her. It didn't make things better. She glanced towards the mutilated body, took in the aether that had spilled out into the world around them and stained everything dark with it's touch. 

She _wanted_ to tear it into ilm-long pieces with her own two hands. She couldn't _feel_ the person at her back the way she had a half-heartbeat before, but his arms had tightened around her torso. She was faced with a _choice_. Listen to _him_, or **End** the creature before her. 

It was never supposed to apply to her own people. She remembered that. It was one of the memories she had recovered atop Eden.

She chose him. 

The sword was lowered, and somewhere there was mention of _take him, take him away from this place **now**_ that she was pretty sure came from the Ascian that was burying his face in the crook of her neck from behind, eyes intent on the scene in front of them that rapidly churned with the void rift that consumed the body, consumed the soul and left them staring at a gorestained, bloodsoaked patch of ground. 

The silence was an odd counterpoint to the way her blood still sang through her. 

* * *

Emet-Selch watched the slow, gradual way that the Warrior calmed down with more than just his physical senses. Without being able to see through to the core of her (to do so would have required them to meld again, and for all that he _technically_ had a stronger soul, did _not_ want to risk it) he largely only had the crystalline, spiked external structure and general emotional state to go by. Gleeful murder had faded to bafflement, consideration and then almost tender _acceptance_. From there, he studied the way she mellowed into almost mournful longing when Elidibus had been born away by those he had brought with him, and then into contentment as she leaned back into his embrace. 

Through it all, the intensity and force of her presence had only really started to recede once the Emissary was gone. He could puzzle out how and why her aether had tasted the air around her later. For now, he simply tried to file away the keening shriek that had come out of Elidibus as she seemed to materialize in front of him and torn through him like a hot knife through butter. 

He couldn't. It kept ringing in his ears. Had he made a sound similar to that, he wondered, morbid curiosity getting the better of him. Speaking of, he had the first stages of tempering, and knew it would take a little bit to work it out of his system on his own. He was distantly aware of the rest of the Scions giving the two of them a wide berth, even as Urianger studied the way the void-tinged aether had touched the land and interacted with it.

At length, she tilted her head to the side and cracked her neck, and then glanced at him curiously. 

"... I've done goofed, haven't I."

The high note of sound that came from the back of his throat was meant to be amused, but he wasn't sure how well he had managed it. Probably not very successfully, considering she winced and the normally open, easy to read parts of her soul pulled tighter against themselves. 

"How about you, are you okay?" She transferred one sword to the other hand, grip shifting to keep both dripping blades pointed away and reached up to cup the side of his face. "I, uhh... He tried to temper you, didn't he? I didn't just, for no reason..."

"No, such was his intent. Somewhat torn, to answer your question. I find myself at a loss, when I attempt to discern how much of my _concern_ for Elidibus is genuine and how much is for him as a proverbial _high priest_." He ignored the way she was smearing some blood against his cheek, proverbially boxing the horror of _that was the last of the Unsundered being dragged across his face_ so that he could study it later. He had a general notion that yes, some of that was very likely an _honest_ thing from himself, but there had always been a nigh unshakable sense of community with the Ascians. It had been part of why he had attempted to avoid them. He already had the weight of mourning the _dead_, the last thing he had needed was to throw himself into babying the _living_ too. 

Besides, the urge was easily countered when he did as he had always done, and let his disdain for how they had hunted her down, his _wife_, like some sort of _animal_ factor into everything.

The remembered scream echoed in his ears, and he subtly tightened his arms around the Warrior. 

"Hey, it'll be okay." She managed an easy, practiced smile under the edge of her mask, and leaned her forehead against his temple. It was at odds with the upset, remorseful way her aether was slowly shifting. "You stopped me from Ending him. He'll heal with time. I didn't cut any parts _off_, I don't think. Thank you, by the way. You were right. I did say I'd save them, not kill them. I just... I'd lost you once to that, and I guess I sort've panicked. And, hey, good news! The thought to whack you like that didn't even cross my mind, so... You're safe from that, seems like."

Emet-Selch made another quiet, high noise in the back of his throat. 

"Well, I shall _certainly_ keep that in mind the next time it becomes necessary for me to bodily restrain you from murdering Elidibus. And while he will heal, such raw damage..." His lips curled against her shoulder, soul instinctively curling tighter to himself. "... You _mutilated_ him."

"_He_ tried to take Ryne hostage, came here with five others, and didn't he mention doing something to that Ascian we just de-tempered?" Thancred had wandered back, unnoticed by either of them and folded his arms as he stared at the two of them. "He _deserved_ it. He tried to kill her wearing Zenos and slew countless during that fight. Hien was in critical care for two weeks."

"Such was war-"

"We're still _at_ war, Emet-Selch." The gunblade stepped closer as the Architect straightened and turned, leaving one arm loosely looped about the Warrior's shoulders. "We've always been at war with the Ascians. Elidibus dragged the Warriors of Darkness to the Source and set us against them, not to mention all the people he had them kill. He doesn't even care about his own kind, about the other Ascians. He _let_ Lahabrea get eaten by Thordan."

"Elidibus-"

"Stop." The Warrior cut him off by turning in his grasp and elbowing him lightly, even as she looked towards Thancred. "Enough. 'Cred, he's partially tempered right now. Telling him all this isn't going to _help_. He already knows it, and doesn't have much of a choice but to ignore all of that."

On some level he was _insulted_, but Emet-Selch boxed that feeling too, proverbially setting it next to the horror and settled for looking away. 

"I think... that if Urianger's decided that everything's safe enough, I'd like to go and get cleaned up and then get some sleep. It was only for a moment, but I did the thing again and I'd like to be able to stop feeling like I'm going to fall over before we hit the next Primal." She turned that easy _lie_ of a smile back to him, and the Ascian huffed out a resigned breath even as he let her go. 

He _supposed_ he should go and work on his own tempering, reluctant as he was to do so. He had a feeling that some of that hesitation to do so was from the tempering itself. 

He didn't _like_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize very clearly that this WoL may seem -very- OP in certain circumstances.  
But I mean, she's the WoL. You all know the story she's been part of


	48. I did a good

A feeling of _wrong_ tickled tickled across her sensibilities, pulling her from the dreamless slumber the Warrior had found for herself. She could hear the sound of fingers drumming against leather, presumably one of the panels of his coat, and briefly wondered what it was that was bothering him. A second flash of _wrong_ mixed with future pain, and she found herself furrowing her brow against the pillow. 

The drumming of his fingers stopped. 

"... You thinkin've killin' me?" She partially slurred the words out, idly curious and utterly unruffled by the thought as she rolled to squint at him in the darkness of their tent. He was a vague silhouette, sitting upright beside her, staring down at her and as she spoke the Ascian tutted. 

"'Tis not impossible. The trouble would be suppressing your Blessing for long enough without rousing you fully. Long have I pondered this thing. Perhaps I was finally _getting_ somewhere, if mere intent awoke you." Tensing, Emet-Selch looked away and sighed softly. "... Close your eyes."

"M'kay." She did, and quirked a brow as he grumbled sourly under his breath and held up one hand, a mote of fire materializing above the palm of his glove. He left it there to float, drifting almost lazily in mid-air as he re-folded his arms.

"... _entirely_ too trusting."

"Look, you trusted me not to hack into you. You're not _nearly_ as tempered as you were, what, a few months ago? Thinking about a thing isn't _doing_ it." Cracking her eyes open once more, she blinked blearily up at him and stifled a yawn behind one hand. "If it was, I'd've died a whole lot more than I have. Prob'ly not even from my own thoughts, either." 

"A few months... Barely any time at all, even by your own mortal standards." Emet-Selch blinked as she reached snagged one of his hands, pulling it from the crook of his elbow so that she could squeeze his fingers gently. 

"Seems like almost forever for me." The Warrior pushed herself up so that she was sitting in front of him, free hand coming up to scrub the last of the sleep from her face.

"What was it that your Exarch mentioned? Eon become instant? Quite the reversal." He thought about trying to pull his hand from her grasp, and instead stared at where her bare fingers were curled around his gloved ones for a long, contemplative moment. "... I want you to swear to me that you will never strike a soul in such a manner, ever again."

"Hades..." She sighed, raking her hand back through her hair to push the uneven strands back from her face before pausing as he tucked the fingers of his free hand against her mouth. 

"Ah, if I might stop you there. I know such is an impossible oath. 'Tis a fine line, between what you did and sundering the tempering from an individual. 'Tis also a necessity for cleaving the souls free from Zodiark. However, what you did was utterly _abhorrent_. What you did to Elidibus is beyond reprehensible. Beyond horrific. While he may have _survived_, his soul will be utterly maimed. 'Tis akin to if I decided Thancred had irked me one too many times and decided to remove one of his lungs and kidneys, along with a few limbs for good measure. 'Tis utterly _monstrous_." Eyes closing, the Ascian hadn't bothered to keep the utter contempt, disgust and anger from his tone. The hand that had tucked against her lips was drawn away. "Do you _understand_ this."

"I do." She smiled softly at him in the dim illumination of the flickering, dancing light. As he watched her aether, he turned over the determination, the ugly bitterness and the _acceptance_ that he felt from her, before blinking his eyes open and staring as she continued. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I made this mess. I don't agree that I'm entirely at fault, but I will say that I overreacted. He was trying to take you _away_ from me. Trying to take what's _mine_. Trying to turn you against me again. Trying to bend your will to make you serve something that would just force you to kill and kill and _kill_. I don't regret it, not really. A little bit, because I went overboard, but only enough to say that I'll _try_ and never strike like that, with that intention again unless I've no other choice."

"Will you swear such?" Pale gold eyes, heavily lidded with with the way her words set off utterly conflicting emotions through him, met and held steel grey flecked with blue. 

"Unhesitatingly. On everything that I am, if it means making you happier. What else can I do? I can no more go back in time than you can to undo all the deaths caused by the calamities. Best I've got is learn from it, and move forward." 

"And if you could?" He dropped his gaze to her hand, thumb shifting across part of her hand gently. 

"There was a primal named Alexander, that could control time. It saw every ending of every action it ever made, and it made the hardest choice of all because it saw that it's every action would cause the end of the world. I can't see how things would play out if things were changed, I don't have that foresight, but I can say that it's every encounter and every good or bad choice that shapes who we are. I wouldn't go back unless, like the Exarch, I knew that things were basically _ending_ and it was the only way to save it." The Warrior reached out to cup the side of his face. "If we could go back, what would change? We'd have to go back to the very beginning, to before the Sundering, right back to that moment in the meeting room with the other Convocation members. And, even then, twelve to two is still outvoted. I'd still do the thing, you'd either survive and fall into despair or consume yourself for the making of it too. I'm not an expert - and I'm certainly not smart enough to do the math - but even going back that far would consume all of creation to fuel it. I think that's what happened to G'raha's timeline, and why he didn't die after everything was changed. It already _had_ changed, when he started pulling Scions across. The time he's from just doesn't... Exist, any more."

"You seem certain of this." Turning his face, Emet-Selch pressed his lips against the palm of her hand and glanced at her, quirking a brow. 

"There he is, the Architect that does all the math I'd ever need to, and then some." An honest smile curled the corners of her lips. "Mostly because I can't imagine him vanishing from the timeline with _your_ tower without you looking into it, and if it can be done I've every faith that you could make something that could do the same thing. So why didn't a second wave of Ascian's appear, shortly after he did? I mean, sure, I thought that maybe they were all chumming around, enjoying the fact that everything was dead and just wracking the Star with calamities, but you've a fondness for the things you put effort into. Azys Lla, for example. You've too much pride in your own handiwork to just let it _vanish_ like that for no reason, where you can't visit and remember."

"'Tis good, honest work, little Monster. _Someone_ should appreciate it, from time to time." Pouting dramatically, he hunched his shoulders and looked away, even as a smirk fought for it's place across his face. 

"That reminds me though. I know you said, last time I asked, that we don't put souls back together, that Hydaelyn does that. But, if you think it would help, I'd like to try." 

The Ascian paused, blinking rapidly and turning the concept over in his mind before slowly dragging his gaze from the wall of the tent to stare at her. She dropped her hand from his face to take up his between both of her own, squaring her shoulders somewhat. 

"I don't know how well it might _work_, but I might be able to remove the tempering and hold him together a bit. Or-or if we could find out if Igeyorhm was reborn yet we could try and find her, and maybe I could get an Echo from her that might show me what to do. Or... Something. You know more about this stuff than I do. I can't _uncut_ him, but I held you together for a little bit without knowing what the hells I was doing..." She faltered for a moment, brow furrowing before he leaned across the gap and looped his arm around her shoulders, sighing softly. 

"... Get your mask, and we shall see what we may yet do for him."

The Warrior nodded slightly, letting go of his hand so that she could feel around for the mask and then scooped it up. Pressing it against her face, her other hand snagged her swordbelt as a ripple of void curled around them. 

* * *

They stepped out into a cathedral, and she knew immediately by the stark lighting that came in through the windows that they were on the moon. Just before the alter floated a nebulous, writhing cloud of void and aether that the five Sundred were gathered around, hands outstretched. She glanced up, buckling her belt around her waist, and blinked as Emet-Selch snapped his fingers quietly in the otherwise silence of the room, and went from wearing his Garlean grey coat to the black robes and red mask of an Ascian.

"You are _unwelcome_ here." The voice came from one of the Sundered, and he ignored it in favour of taking her by the hand and leading her towards the cluster. They started sharing nervous glances among each other. 

"I have an _idea_, little Monster. Do you recall our conversation about your portraits?" The Architect's tone was an idle drawl, and she tilted her head to the side as she kept pace with him and nodded. 

"I do. I don't think I can apply them to others, though. None of that goes _out_."

"Yours need not. The theory is _sound_, but I will require materials." Holding one hand out, the air around the nebulous mass rippled before the cloud seemed to somewhat settle. "Mitron, Pashtarot, go to Garlemald and recover the table used for the Resonant. Fandaniel, yours will be to assist with holding him stable as I assess the damage and discern the best course of action. The rest of you, prepare to join me in my work." 

They all looked at him as if he had grown a second head, before two of them abruptly vanished into void rifts. The others shuffled about to flank the Architect, staring at her as she lifted her free hand and scritched at the side of her face. Clearing her throat, she tried to ignore the eyes that were boring into her back and squeezed his hand. 

"What... Will I do, then?" 

"_You_ will provide the template and Pulse. All of the pieces yet remain, 'tis simply a matter of restructuring them. I will provide the image." 

The Ascian that flanked him to the right shifted uncomfortably, flinching slightly. "That could shred him to bits and-"

"Enough, Lohgrif. Return to the first and bring Halmarut here. I will require his expertise as Weaver. Emmerololth, how have your efforts to recover Igeyorhm panned out?"

The Ascian that was addressed glanced at the Warrior, who did her best to make herself seem like she wasn't there at all or that, if she was, she was simply there to admire the architecture of the cathedral. "... Reincarnated as a draft chocobo, Architect." 

The Warrior very carefully kept her face blank. My, what enjoyable crystal glass windows those were. Emet-Selch nudged her foot with his own, though he also squeezed her hand. 

"Well now, let it never be said that she never did a hard day's work in the entirety of her existence. She may become useful at a later date, but for now I shall mark her as an unavailable resource." He glanced over as the two Ascians that had vanished to fetch the table returned. Facing each other, they measured a distance apart and then held their hands out to each other, a secondary swirl of a void rift sweeping between them and leaving the table behind. "Good. Eschaton, go and stand on the other side of the table." 

She glanced at him, before nodding and pulling away to amble over and stand there as directed. Stretching idly, she watched as Emet-Selch paced along after her, drawing the nebulous mass of matte black and faint reds along with him so that it was settled over the table. He glanced at her, before smiling faintly. 

"Once, long ago, you inquired after the proverbial ability to 'ride along'. Do you still feel willing to do thus, for me?"

"'Course, if you feel it's safe to. I'm guessing it's so you can use your vessel as a container for him?" She tilted her head slightly, and he inclined his head and looked back at the others. 

"Gather around. Ensure he remains stable." 

They did, each of them raising a hand and he took the opportunity to clamber onto the table and stretch out. Staring up at the mass, he studied it for a moment before closing his eyes and relaxing. 

The Warrior tried to do the same as his aether sank into her. She let him guide her, feeling the way he wrapped her up in himself and almost idly testing the limits of what he would let her do. She could perceive things, see them as if seeing with her own eyes, but periodically a flicker of aether overlaid everything. Her limbs refused to obey her, and the brief moment of panic that suffused her was gently, tenderly smothered by his reassurance. A brief tug on her sensibilities had her thoughts melding slightly with his own, following his train of thought. 

He needed to _see_ things how she saw them. He needed her to lead his senses back into herself, into her Echo. He was nervous, cautious, and there was a hard knot of him that he was keeping from her in just as much of an iron fist as she had the Lightwarden's aether. She expressed curiosity, and the image of a giant purple-black crystal with a glowing red core flit through her mind. Ah. Zodiark's tempering then. She left it alone, and instead turned her senses back into herself, into where the six coloured crystals orbited her core in gentle, lazy circles. From within that circle, she reached out, and _invited_ him. 

He traced the paths she showed him to the Pulse. He touched on each 'portrait' ever so gently, mindful of how much could go wrong if they were damaged and how many potentialities he could cut off. That hard knot within him quaked, and she reached back through him and gently wrapped the image her hand around his, stilling it. 

She felt him tremble around her, and soothed him as best he could, distracting him by guiding his focus back to the task at hand. In return, he led her focus outward, and together they opened their eyes. 

He glanced upwards, studying the mass and picking out the remains of the vessel Elidibus had stolen from him within it. That just _had_ to go, and raising their hand they snapped their fingers and it was _gone_, broken down into it's base aether components and teased out of the mass. Pain radiated out from it, from Elidibus, and she studied it as best she could as Emet-Selch focused their vision on the aetheric. The matte black of the tempering was indistinguishable from the rest of him. She internally _ummm'd_ and the Architect picked up on her concern immediately. Ideas flit across her consciousness as he rifled through his memory, a kaleidoscope of images and instants perfectly preserved before she gently nudged him and offered her what she thought might be a _helpful suggestion_. 

What if, they identified each and every piece that was _him_ manually? 

Irritation and flustered incredulity answered her. Did she even know what that would _mean?_ Did she not realize how _intimate_ this thing was? 

Did they want to save him, or did they not, came her response. It wasn't as if she _relished_ the idea. In fact he was quite aware of how uncomfortable it made her, but for _him_, to save this person that _she_ had maimed, to work to _right a wrong_ and maybe, make the Architect happy, then there wasn't anything she was unwilling to at least _try. _He warmed around and against her.

They decided that, if they didn't come up with anything else, they would revisit that idea _later_. For now, he settled their hands against the table and began to bridge a connection to the device even as he continued wracking his memories for every interaction Emet-Selch had endured in the past with the Emissary, piecing together what the soul had looked like for their 'portrait'. As he did, she continued studying and searching, idly noting the souls and the aether that was cradling Elidibus to help keep him there, keep him stable. Curious, she _listened_, and as she did Emet-Selch paused in his efforts as she ever so slightly tilted her face one way, and then the other. 

The right side of her jaw _itched_, just a little bit. She reached up with their hand to scratch it, and stared at the corresponding side of the mass. She ignored the way he explored the gossamer thin strands of _this way, that way_ before she reached out to point at a particular, indeterminate portion that her gaze had been drawn to. He let her see through his aetheric senses, and she was baffled at how it seemed to _sparkle_. 

A flicker across her sensibilities, across both of their sensibilities, came but a moment before a void rift opened nearby. Halmarut and Lohgrif stepped out of it, the former somewhat more battered than the latter, and together they approached. Emet-Selch glanced over, opening their mouth to speak. 

"Halmarut." She stifled a snicker at how _his_ voice came from them, earning an idle, lazy jostle of his essence against hers and amused reminder to _behave, because coexisting like this was hard enough without complications, little Monster_ and so she ever so innocently contained herself. "Good. Come here. We will need your assistance with maintaining a bridged connection. This is horribly complicated as is."

"... What did you do with Eschaton?" He limped over, breaking away from Lohgrif as the other went to go and support the four that were keeping Elidibus somewhat stable. 

"I'm still here, don't worry Old Bird." She stretched their lips into a grin, before Hades rolled their eyes. 

"I need you to anchor two points. Here, and here-" Emet-Selch didn't bother to gesture, flaring his aether at both ends of the bridged connection. "-and _do not let go_."

"A triangular formation, acting as the foci of your own spellwork? Dangerous." The Weaver paced around the table to stand across from them, placing both hands on the table. The brush of his aether against them as he took over the bridge was methodical, practiced, and the hand-off went as easily as simply passing a piece of paper from one person to another. "If I may make a suggestion for an adjustment?"

"Speak. I've very nearly got this last bit figured out." The Architect drew their focus towards where Halmarut was working through the technology embedded into the table, tracing portions of the device. 

"Why not cast in tandem with Eschaton? None of this is your work, beyond the general theory of the device itself, and the resonance between the two of you is astounding. Neither of you are bleeding into the other, there is practically no noise for all that her soul is Sundered, no conflict between the two of you." The Weaver frowned at them, leaning forward. "At least, none that I can see. You both are fairly guarded, however. I can't exactly tell what you are working on behind your walls."

"A good question, and one that I will, perhaps, answer at a later date. For now, simply accept that I have made the appropriate judgement and proceed as planned. You need only account for any bleed through and ensure this entire thing remains stable."

"Difficult, considering I know not what exactly I will be stabilizing beyond an aetherical bridge that you should, by all rights, be able to maintain yourself without much effort. Do you doubt your concentration will hold?" 

"I have _every faith_ in your abilities, Halmarut, our task is simply... Complex and will very likely cause a surge, of sorts. Provided you can manage the feedback, all should go according to plan." Emet-Selch double checked his work, comparing the 'portrait' to the two she held within her. "One last part, my little Monster. What do we do about _that?"_

He was refering to the tempering. She did a quick run down of how she normally did it, and he helped her pick out the ever so subtle shapes that he could discern now that he knew where to _look_. He also cheated a little bit and pulled on her ability to _feel_ which was the target and which wasn't before they drew one of their blades. Raising their other hand to still the Ascians that were stabilizing Elidibus, they narrowed their eyes before the Architect spoke. 

"Keep him _very_ still. 'Tis hard enough to aim as is, and such is the compromise and price that I have agreed to."

"You _dare_ draw a-?"

She bid him to strike before they lost their nerve, instead of wasting time with back and forth, and though he chided her for being _hasty_ and _impatient_, he settled back to watch as she guided the sword up and ever so gently ticked the edge of the blade against the nebulous mass. Elidibus _writhed_, a single note of pain ringing out before part of it was separating off, and she _drew it in_, picking it apart and converting it as it went. It struggled and tried to connect with the piece that trembled and shook within their combined grasp, but her will was _unbending_. Together they reached up, and she watched as he soothed the pain from the churning mass, slowing it, settling it back down. 

They shared their satisfaction, before sheathing the sword and holding out their left hand. He prepared the portrait, and she held the edges of the source of her Echo Pulse. All that was left was... They nodded, closed their eyes and gathered themselves. 

They snapped their fingers, and the world lit up around them. 

* * *

One of the main traits of the Architect, was an _impeccable_ memory and attention to detail. If he had ever paid an iota of attention to it, there was an _astoundingly_ good chance that he could recreate it, down to the last minor identifying mark. His 'portrait' of the framework and structure of the Emissary's soul was, to his best recollection of every moment he had ever seen the man's essence, utterly indistinguishable from the real thing. It was a trait that had played heavily into the Echo that Zodiark's tempering had given him, this ability to recreate people from his memories. Though they were made from his own aether, these shades were _perfect_ in every respect save for one. 

They lacked the actual _souls_ of the individuals they were modeled after. Lo and behold, he happened to have the original, actual soul of the person he was applying himself to. How _convenient_.

They had reached out, adjusting the 'where' that her Echo Pulse would activate, utilizing the device within the table to alter it as if it was the Resonant instead of the Echo, and all that had been left was to apply the template and strain Elidibus through it enough that her Pulse caught it, checked it against the 'portrait', found that it was _wrong_ and then activated to set it back to rights. He had been privately concerned as to whether or not it would recognize the soul or of it would try to reset and, if it did, if it would simply reject it, but she twisted it and prodded it and proverbially booted it until it worked. 

Twined together as they were, they both experienced a brief, disorienting moment as it tried to apply _Elidibus_ to _them_, but Halmarut had the feedback under control and the nebulous, writhing mass above them was drawn down into the vessel and the faint, miserable sense of _pain_ in the air had evaporated. 

Emet-Selch blinked as he noted the drain on her resources, the way her aether simply hadn't _liked_ being turned outwards, and he checked her over for injuries as she idly drifted and fought the nausea that was coiling through her. Aether sickness, he realized, and simply took it into himself to deal with later. Nothing _damaged,_ but he noted several points of her aether that were now stressed and should probably be allowed to heal naturally. He fed some of his own reserves into her, working to carefully convert it into something she could use, and thrummed with contentment as she came out of the stupor she had been spiraling towards. A slight moment of movement on the table drew their attention. 

The vessel's hand moved, and Elidibus slowly sat up, looking confused. The Emissary reached up, feeling at the unfamiliar mask before, with a small gesture, the robes bleached to whites and browns and the mask rippled, altering into his own. 

"... I had... The most horrible dream." Turning to glance at all those that had gathered, Elidibus rubbed at his temples before looking over at the Warrior and Emet-Selch. "... I don't _really_ have your nose, do I?"

"Quite literally, I'm afraid. How do you feel?" They studied him, both physically and with the Architect's aether. Everything _seemed_ in order. 

"Tired." Came the admission, and the Emissary shifted to tuck his legs over the side of the table. "I thought... That Eschaton was back."

"I am." She stretched their lips into another grin. "Looks like you owe him not one, but two clone vessels."

"Eschaton are you... Wearing, your husband?" He glanced at them once more, eyes narrowing.

"Quite proudly." She bit back several additions, variants of 'all over my face' and 'he didn't leave any spot uncovered' and enjoyed the way the Architect curled and coiled about her with amusement and the equivalent of subdued sniggering. "I did a good, looks like. Quick question though, if I say that Zodiark sucks nuts, how does that make you feel?"

"Mildly insulted, but I presume you are asking after my tempering." The Emissary kneaded his chest idly, frowning and shaking his head. "... I don't... Feel it."

"Good. _Good_. You're free. All that's left is them." She nodded towards the five Ascians that were huddled, whispering and conversing quietly among themselves, and drew her sword. "Think they'll listen to you if you tell them it's for their own good?"

"Eschaton, if there is anything that any of us should have learned from the past, it's that anything you say should be measured and weighed and not simply discarded." Halmarut smiled over at them, leaning tiredly against the table. 

"Right then. Hey! Listen up! I need all of you to line up and try really, _really_ hard to stay still!" 

She drew her sword, and they all exchanged glances. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst!  
Psst you!  
Hey you!  
Thank you for reading this!  
If you're one of the many lovely people who comment or kudos or share this with your friends, then thank you!  
Thank you for every millisecond of time you put into reading this!  
You, every one of you that do that, are the reason I keep writing!  
< 3


	49. Chapter 49

The Sundered Ascians had tried to scatter when the attention in the room settled on them. 

Between Elidibus, Halmarut and Emet-Selch they were corralled, locked down and secured before each one ever so carefully had their tempering sheared away like so much fleece. The Architect was able to fine tune the ability for her, which essentially had each of them mercifully blacking out and then recovering a few hours later under their own power. By then, Emet-Selch had moved them all to Azys Lla on the Source, and as much as she was entranced by how it felt to use magic, he pointed out that her body was starting to get aether sick beyond what he could simply 'wave away'. Even if it _wasn't_ her aether being used, it was still being channeled through her, after all. 

They settled the others into some of the spare rooms, and then retreated back to his chambers so that he could settle into one of the vessels that remained. 

As soon as he left her body, she staggered and it was only a quick shuffle and lean that had her pitching onto the bed instead of the floor. "... Yeah. I, uhh... I see what you mean now. Twelve, my head's just _swimming_... Am... Am I gunna be okay?" 

"-Please-, little Monster, if I was to kill you it would _not_ be like this. 'Tis utterly lacking in dignity." Gloved hands scooped under her and shifted her properly onto the bed before tugging on the belt and removing it. Emet-Selch draped it over the headboard, before shedding his grey Garlean coat and climbing into bed next to her. 

"Oh yeah. Still gotta... Still gotta do something about yours again." The Warrior yawned, relaxing as the Ascian put his back to the headboard and pulled her arm into his lap, idly massaging along her hand and forearm. "Lemme get a nap in, and then... Then I wanna try something. You were all _rigid_ 'cause of that chunk in you, But... Did... Did I do a good? I did do a good, right? I fixed it? Still cracks in the mirror, but..."

"Whatever are you babbling about now?" Quirking a brow, he shook his had and huffed a soft sound of amusement, using his thumb to knead the palm of her hand in a circular pattern. "Never mind. Get your rest, little Monster. Rest assured, you have done much to rectify the situation that you created." 

"M'glad..." 

Emet-Selch gave her a soft, fond smile as she drifted off, enjoying the way she had shifted to snuggle against his leg and hip.

* * *

Several hallways away and two floors down, Elidibus _paced_. Some of his memories had gaping _holes_ in them, and he could distinctly recall that he utterly hated red wine, but felt something of a craving for it regardless. What worried him the most, was that there was a stretch of several recent hours that he _could_ remember, save for the fact that each one fairly quivered with pain and had tried to repress themselves. He had a feeling that they were tied to the way his soul _ached_ and how he had found himself flinching away from the sight of those terrible black swords that Eschaton carried. 

He felt... He felt _raw_, like there were pieces not quite missing, but _off_. Nothing he couldn't fix in the long run, with a long rest and some time spent studying himself. He thought perhaps it might have had to do with the tempering that the Botanist had sundered from him. 

_Sundered_. By the _End_. And it had, instead, been a new beginning. An image of one of her swords flashed across his mind and he physically winced before turning to sit down at the table in the living room that doubled as a kitchenette. 

Trauma. He rolled the word around for a moment. Damage to the mind that lingered, a result of overwhelming stress that the individual was unable to cope with. Trauma. _Traaauma._

The door to his rooms opened, and he glanced over as Emet-Selch ambled in with a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

"Terribly sorry. I would have bothered to knock, save that the doors all open for me automatically." The Architect offered a rueful smirk as he sauntered in and sat himself down at the table, setting the wine and both glasses down. Working the cork out with a quiet 'pop', he started to pour them each a glass and slid one across to the Emissary, who accepted it with a resigned sigh. 

"Here to double check your handiwork, or to marvel at your craftsmenship."

"Is it _truly_ so difficult to believe I might be concerned for an _old friend?_" Huffing as he leaned back in his chair, Emet-Selch lifted his glass and raised it in a toast and waited until the white-robed Ascian collected his own and raised it as well. "A toast. To the last of us."

Both men drank. Elidibus set his glass down and tried not to enjoy the bitterness. "To the last of us. I would prefer to know what happened, but must admit that I am... Hesitant, to ask. Much of today has been reduced to a blur."

"Well, it certainly wasn't _pretty_." The Architect's face twisted into a bitter smirk. "You made an incredibly _stupid_ mistake, the latest in a long line of them. Tell me, what _exactly_ has been going on? You were the only one that Zodiark seemed to be able to speak with after the Sundering."

The Emissary grimaced, nodding slowly. "He believed Hydaelyn is dying, and sees the end of his imprisonment within his reach. The current Warrior of Light, your... Surprisingly resourceful wife, will likely be the last of them should the Mothercrystal's downward spiral continue. It was his wish, that I should act swiftly and end her, so that we might continue uncontested. He knew, the moment that your tempering was removed, and was embittered by the loss of your strength, reluctantly offered as it was. Out of all of us, you were the least receptive to his offer after all."

"To bring everyone _back_. What a _sham_." Eyeing the glass of wine in his hand, Emet-Selch slowly rotated it and grimaced. "... Blasphemy..."

"Which is the truth, I wonder? I must have been somewhat successful in one of my plans to have restored some semblance of tempering to your heart. Enough, at least, for a conflict of interest." Gesturing towards the Architect, Elidibus leaned forward at the table and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand as if to ward off his growing headache. 

"Both. Regarding what happened, in summary, when you attempted to elevate me to one of Zodiark's Faithful once more, Eschaton perceived it as an attempt to steal me away from her. You recall how that went near Revenant's Toll, don't you?"

He did. She had moved too quickly for him to follow and tapped the flat of the blade against his outstretched arm. He had thought that there would be little she could do to him, but Zodiark whispered of a hidden danger and he had chosen to retreat. Elidibus nodded slowly. 

"She made good on her threat. The vessel you stole from me was eviscerated, and she struck you across the soul equally as deep." Emet-Selch lifted his glass, taking a sip before sighing and lowering the glass to set it gently on the table. "Fortunately, through my architectural ingenuity and her willingness to make right the wrongs of the past, we managed to... restore you, for lack of a better term. I came largely to apologize. I had to... Fill in, some of the gaps myself, but 'tis nothing you cannot correct with time and effort. Nothing major, at least."

"This explains the craving for red wine." And the soreness, but he didn't have to say it out loud for the Architect to know what he was thinking. Instead, he rubbed his temples. "... That... Is a terrifying thought, to know that someone wields such power. One of the Secrets of Eschaton?"

"From what I can tell, yes. Small wonder why they never spoke of it to others. They were ostracized enough as things stood, with their... oddities."

"And yet, you bonded with her. I certainly hope I didn't also inherit your taste in partners." Elidibus leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore his glass and how tempting it looked even as the Architect huffed a sound of amusement.

"Yes, I most certainly _did_. And you would be _blessed_ to have such fine tastes in partners, not that you _have_ been." He sounded utterly smug, and lifted his chin proudly and smirking as the Emissary waved a hand. 

"A topic that I most certainly do not want wish to consider. Always have I stepped carefully around the Warrior of Light. To know that she could bypass a Secret of Elidibus..."

"You mean that little, gimmicky thing where none may bear arms against the Emissary? -Please-, people have been shooting the messenger for thousands of years."

"It takes a very special type of person to be able to. And I may have been remiss to think that attempting to temper you would not be perceived as an attack. I almost wonder if such was why she merely warned me, and did not directly attack at Revenant's Toll." Elidibus broke down, reaching for his glass and taking a sip ever so carefully. Red wines _stained_, which was why he usually avoided them, and the sweet bitternes wasn't quite what he wanted from a drink. "... What is your plan."

"I _swear_, none of you ever know the correct question to _ask_." Tutting, Emet-Selch picked up his glass and drained it, setting it back down and reaching for the bottle to pour himself a new one. 

"Regarding our people, Architect. Regarding Zodiark, and Hydaelyn. Regarding the sundered Star."

"You may as well pass your glass over, Elidibus. This... Will take some time."

* * *

"... The theory is... Remarkably sound, considering the short amount of time you have worked on it." 

Emet-Selch smirked, sliding the bottled beer he had pulled out of thin air over to the Emissary. "Of course it is. My Eschaton came up with the core of it. While her work has ever been _rough_ around the edges, she has incredible instincts for these things."

"There is still the matter of rejoining the other sundered shards, which will be no small undertaking. Between those of us that are left, however, we should be able to figure something out. While we are not on quite as terrible of a time-crunch, Zodiark did have a point. Hydaelyn is dying. It is expected that She will not last another century. Our two options thus are to reinforce Her and buy Her time, or accelerate our timetable for Zodiark's subdual and the Ardor, in that order." Elidibus gratefully accepted the beer, twisting the top off with a practiced motion. and lifting it to his lips before pausing. "... Did you do anything to this beer?"

The Architect rolled his eyes and then gave him a _look_ that said quite plainly what he thought about _that_.

"Just checking." Taking a sip, the Emissary sighed contently and leaned back in his chair. "... I will speak with the others. I assume you intend to remain by her side in the First?"

"And wherever else she goes. I have... Quite a lot of lost time to make up, and her vessel is still subject to aging. Her soul is also not as naturally robust as our own, although I have noticed that when you factor in Hydaelyn's blessing it rather more than makes up for it. If I had to parse it out into segments, I would suggest her soul was just a smidge stronger than yours or mine. For all that it is a cracked, broken, just over half-healed thing."

"I can remember quite well the controversy, when you both decided to do that. Generally bonding is greatly frowned upon for Convocation members, yet you both went and did it anyway." Elildibus smiled slightly, before lifting the bottle and taking another sip. 

"Yes, you all held a vote to determine how, exactly you all might oust us from the Convocation only to realize that you had no way to force either of us to step down." The Architect smirked, remembering fondly the exact moment he had learned of the 'secret' meeting. 

"You rattled the building around us until we came out of the meeting hall, and poor Lahabrea had birds divebombing him and shitting on his hood for years after that." The Emissary held his small smile, even as he studied his drink. "He became very proficient in wards and shields because of it."

"Such served him right. Simply because she refused to bond with him did not warrant the level of grief he caused her on a regular basis. The city very nearly had a drought for two decades all because of him." Drinking right from the wine bottle, Emet-Selch took a sip and hummed before starting to push himself to his feet "Well, regardless, I have a _wife_ to return the bulk of my attention and focus to."

"Emet-Selch."

The Architect paused, glancing over to the Emissary as he dropped his gaze to the table. 

"... I'm sorry. For Aileth."

Pale gold eyes studied the white-robed Ascian for a long moment, before he looked towards the door.

"'Tis not _me_ you must apologize to for killing. Such shall be your penance."

And then he was gone.

* * *

When the Warrior woke, it was slowly. Which meant, really, that she was waking naturally and not because something had so much as twitched in her general proximity. It was a luxury she could rarely enjoy, between camping, people needing something, Emet-Selch working on something or a bird flying past a window. 

There was warmth against her that wasn't her own, and as she slowly cracked her eyes opened she realized that the Ascian had fallen asleep holding her hand, back against the headboard. She had turned slightly to somewhat hug his thigh, and his face was angled down as if he had been watching her before eventually drifting off. She felt remarkably better, if slightly hungry, but she was more than willing to put that off if it meant she could watch him for just that little bit longer. 

"Enjoying the view?"

With her Echo, the Warrior hadn't been startled in _years_. So the voice that came from _directly behind__ her_ sent her, wheezing, cursing and flailing, across the Vessel's lap and across to the other side of the bed, scrambling slightly and brandishing a throwing knife that had almost magically appeared in her hand. Her vision clarified as Emet-Selch gave her a smug, cat-that-ate-the-canary look and straightened from where he had leaned down to loom over her in her sleep.

"Ass. _Hat_." 

"Pancakes are ready, if you are so inclined." The Architect continued to look utterly pleased with himself, and almost idly brushed an invisible spec of dirt from his coat sleeve. 

"Right, how'd you...? Y'know what, Fuck it. Food first. Seven hells, I'm sure awake _now_, aren't I. Fucker." For good measure, she picked up a pillow and swatted the empty, sleeping vessel, bowling him over before starting to crawl off the bed and put her feet under her, watching the one he was actively using saunter off towards the kitchen. "Better have chocolate in them!" 

"Blueberries or _nothing,_ little Monster. Now hurry up, they are getting cold."

She grumbled, but made her way over to the kitchen only to pause and stare at the six others seated around the table. Six hooded heads, five with black hoods one white, turned to stare at her. Six masked faces stared at her, before Elidibus lifted a hand and waved. Emet-Selch pulled out a chair for her, one of those wheeled ones that leaned back, and patted it as he smirked at her. 

"... I _must_ be getting old, if I missed half a dozen folks eating thirty fulms away from me. Quick question. Thancred...?"

"Already spoken with, little Monster." The Architect tucked a trio of pancakes onto the plate in front of what was presumably her chair, and started to pour on a ridiculous amount of syrup. "I am _not _going to repeat what he said in polite company, either, only that he must have moved away from the little girl to do so."

"I can imagine how that went, yeah." Clearing her throat, the Warrior ambled over and sat down, blinking at the plate of food in front of her and then at the others around the table. They all _stared_ at her, save for Halmarut who simply snagged another pancake from the massive stack in the middle of the table for himself and promptly began using it to mop up some of the excess syrup on his plate. "Sssooo... What's the occasion?" 

"Freedom, mostly." Elidibus leaned back in his chair, picking up the bottle of beer he had been nursing and taking a small sip. "We don't exactly have a lot of time to figure out how to go about this, and while your theory regarding the souls within Zodiark is sound, you have little and less regarding the Ardor."

"I mean, fair, all I got is how I _don't_ want it to go." She dropped her gaze to the pancakes and picked up her fork, starting to carefully cut into them. "What do you mean by time, though? Yeah, Hydaelyn's getting weaker, but we should be able to balance things and, I dunno, isn't she attached to the Lifestream? Is Zodiark breaking free early or something?"

The Emissary glanced to the Architect, before tilting his head slightly. "... You didn't tell her?"

"I rather had other things on my mind. Such as You. And Eden. And Urianger being tempered. And now not. And establishing a proper method of travel between the First and the Source. And a dozen other things. Besides, I thought perhaps she already knew, considering her knowledge of how weak the Mothercrystal is becoming." Emet-Selch huffed, cutting the pancake on his plate into neat squares and stabbing one with his fork. 

"Alright, question time. How long's 'not a lot of time' for you guys and what exactly am I missing?" The Warrior glanced back and forth between the two Paragons, and then over to Halmarut as the others quietly went back to eating their (presumably) breakfasts. The bearded Ascian shrugged slightly. 

"Hydaelyn seems to be dying. None of us know how to halt or slow the process beyond methods that would work for the average primal. Elidibus?" The Weaver glanced to the Emissary, who nodded slowly. 

"Three, maybe four decades? Perhaps more. Zodiark was singularly unspecific. Emet-Selch mentioned that she seemed to be starving herself."

"_Did_ he now." The Warrior side-eyed the Architect, who was stuffing his mouth full of as much pancake as he could to avoid answering and gave her as innocent a look as he could manage. "And how's he know that? Go and make a social call recently?"

"He mentioned that it was a working theory, based off of what we knew of her temperament and how you created her." Elidibus came to his rescue, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down. "She does not demand prayers, she does not demand aether. While it seems that she was designed to be a perpetual motion machine that could also leech ambient aether when needed, she lacks the drive to do so to sustain herself. We believe that the only individual she would be willing to feast upon would be Zodiark."

"Well, I mean that's..." She blinked, frowning. "I think... What about the void? Yeah it's opposed element aether, but it's still aether. And it's not like the thirteenth can be rejoined anywaaayyy I see how that's a bad idea now, yeah..."

"To reintroduce that much void-aspected aether to the Lifestream in that manner would be to essentially turn multiple generations into naturally occuring voidsent. However, if Hydaelyn was able to do so minutely, over the course of millenia, she may be able to work through it and purify it, thus returning it to the Source." Halmarut pointed at Elidibus with his fork. "I believe void was your area of expertise. I can give you the conversion rates for aether that most standard current races work at for their own natural ability to balance themselves."

"She'd still have to _eat_ th-OH! Oh oh oh, What was it called. The, uhh, the thingies!" She turned to Emet-Selch, shaking him slightly as he tried to take a sip of coffee and ended up simply holding the mug out over the table so that he didn't spill any of it. He gave her a baffled look, mouth still partially full of pancake. "The, uhh, small spinny things! Crystal! Palm sized! I used three've them!" 

"Miniaturized Aetheric Accelerators?" Came his response from a room away, and he quirked a brow even as he continued to chew. 

"Show off." She looked back at Elidibus and beamed. "Yeah, those!"

"Incredibly tricky and dangerous to trifle with. They were banned for a reason." Elidibus frowned faintly, even as another Ascian chimed in. 

"It's not _impossible_." 

"Hey, I recognize that voice. You tried to kill me at, uhh, not Summerford, Swiftperch!" She beamed at him, and he cleared his throat and looked sheepish. "What's your title? I was sort've nervous I'm assuming last night, so I didn't really make a lot've connections between people and who they might be."

"... Mitron." The word was muttered into his glass of water, and he hunched his shoulders somewhat. "Look, about that-"

"Hey, I'm not holding a grudge. What were you gunna do, _succeed?_"She grinned cheekily, and Emet-Selch made a sound of amusement in the back of his throat. 

"As I was saying, they were banned for a reason. Whatever modifications you made to them to keep them stable were not shared with us. Unless you happen to remember...?" Elidibus politely paused, before humming as she blinked at him and shook her head. 

"Plan be then. But we might be able to use them to balance out the conversion rate. It's apparently _shit_ when going between void and non-aspected after all. She might get as much back as it takes to change it, if we're lucky." The Warrior smiled and started picking away at her pancakes. "Meantime, these pancakes aren't uniform, so that means Emet-Selch didn't make them alone. Did you all do this?"

There were a lot of suddenly sheepish, embarrassed Ascians sitting around the table, and she _laughed_, delighted.


	50. Ch 50 Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. This one took forever to post because I wanted to do the chapter 50 as had been asked, and that made it super long.  
There's more I wanted to do, but I started this last night and just want it posted at this point.  
Edit: HOLY CRAP ALMOST 10K WORDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, although I might not respond to each and every comment (I'm paranoid that it'll seem like I'm trying to pad out the comments number, and that's just not kosher to me) I read every. Single. One. Multiple times. Even while I'm writing, I've got them open in a new tab to squee over whenever the fancy strikes me. And I constantly refresh that page to see if any new comments have populated.  
That paranoia is why I haven't made -comments- be my milestone counter, because as much as I might want to then I'd be counting my -own- comments and that feels too much like tooting my own horn.  
Speaking of, we're coming up on another 100 kudos milestone. Think about what you guys might want to see!

He learned early on that she loved to _sing_. 

Not with words, simply... Sounds. She would hum and whistle and spit out random series of notes to whatever animal or plant she was tending to and it seemed to pick up on that. Any time she tried to sing using _words_ she invariably made people try and get her to _stop_. Lahabrea had once paid for an entire platter of small cheeses just so that he could throw them at her to distract her. No, words were... Not her strength.

But _sounds_... 

She mostly made them when she was invested in her work. Every now and then he would ever so carefully sneak up on her (which rarely, if ever worked) and just... Listen to her hum. She had an amazing range for melody, an incredible grasp on tempo and could swap from one genre of music to another at the drop of a hat and make the transition _seamless_. In many ways, it was an absolutely, utterly _Persephone_ thing to do considering she herself would talk about one thing and, upon being distracted, immediately transition to that new thing without missing a beat. 

He had asked her once, about her tastes in music. She had given him countless examples of every genre that existed, but he _knew_ her by the and had clapped his hands to get her attention before she wandered off on a tangent about the differences between a baseline produced by a bass guitar versus a very large drum. 

"-Please-, 'Seph, I asked what your _favourite_ music was." 

She had looked at him, _really_ looked at him, steel grey eyes with their crystalline blue hues, and told him to meet her miles outside of town at exactly sunset for a _very_ special concert a week from that very night if he was so keen on learning the answer to that question. When pressed, she refused to answer further, and so he settled in to wait her out. The lat and long coordinates were a day and a half flight away, so he cleared his desk and took a rather sudden vacation that coincided with the beginning of the three weeks she was supposed to spend away from the city, out doing Eschaton things. 

He planned it well. Hythlodaeus was the Head Enforcer for the title of Emet-Selch, so it was easy enough to convince him to have a day or so's head start before the guards that were both largely ceremony (Convocation members were, after all, the leaders of the city and accidents sometimes happen) and meant to ensure that the secrets of the title were kept came after him. It was a time-honoured tradition. Every title had a handful of secrets and in a society built on sharing knowledge it was what set them apart. They were things that only the bearer of the relevant title could to. 

They weren't _allowed_ to share them, because then anyone could figure out how it worked. Or so it went. Hades didn't _care_. He had _met_ her Enforcers. Their eyes could change colour, and that was largely it. They weren't dangerous. 

Everybody _worried_ too much. He had been sneaking into the Agricultural Center for _centuries_ now. He felt confident that if he crossed the path of any of them, that he could just say he was out there doing research and they would leave him alone. People had been misunderstanding the Agri Corps for millenia. They weren't the dangerous, unbalanced people with creepy, unhealthy fetishes dancing naked in the moonlight coated in the blood of animals that some people made them out to be. 

... He had heard a _lot_ of rumours. He had yet to be brave enough to bring them up to Eschaton to see how much truth there was to them. Every time he tried she would blink and look at him and he would abruptly change the subject. 

They were a cheerful lot. Certainly, they had some... _eccentricities_ but life was just quirky that way. None of them seemed as if they could hurt a fly. In fact, he had accidentally bumped into one of them and had spent the next five minutes trying to ward off the profuse apologies. 

He felt confident when he set out. He was an _adult_, and the worst thing he would have to face was a handful of _wolves_ and mosquitoes. He would be _fine_.

* * *

Emet-Selch was _not fine_. 

There were things in the forest that _should not have been_. He had half a mind to report such to the Agricultural Center if he survived. _If._ It was a pretty big if. Oh, everything had gone according to plan as he hiked the last six or so miles, but then there had been wolves that had something _wrong_ with them following him, slinking through the woods, keeping to the shadows and only visible by the faintly glowing yellow eyes that followed him. Every time he tried to check their aether to see where they were, everything else kept getting in the way, everything from the treebranches to the insects themselves in the air. 

They seemed content to keep a distance. He had seen one slink through a patch of light and noted that it was _very large_ and _spiked in places it should not be spiked_. The head that housed those eyes was bigger than he was, and yet they made only the faintest whisper of sound as they followed him. 

This was how he _died_. This was how he _ended_ and he was going to be _late_ for whatever bizarre thing it was that Eschaton had invited him out into the wilderness to see- _Somethingbigwasmovingtowardshim_.

He froze, staring as a steel-grey wolf with a ridge of spikes that ran the length of it's back stepped silently out of the trees. Brilliant, crystalline blue eyes stared at him, and there was something hauntingly familiar to them. It rumbled quietly, before turning and padding along. It paused a short distance away, staring back at him. 

A glance back towards the countless yellow eyes watching them prompted him to follow what he could only presume was the alpha, though he paused mid-step when he realized that this grey spiked monster was _female_. Wherever was her mate, he wondered. 

She led him through the forest to an out cropping of rock that jutted out over a cliff, before sitting down and staring out at the sea of trees below. Above, the sky darkened and he checked his position with a map and a compass because all of the aetheric interference meant that regular devices were _useless_. At least she didn't seem to want to _eat_ him. 

Somewhere, off in the distance, a wolf howled. 

His guide (?) perked her ears up, and rumbled softly, and he spent a long moment looking around as another wolf picked up the howl, miles out in the forest. Another join in, and another, until finally there had to be dozens of them howling in tandem. The sound was utterly discordant, and he found himself grimacing slightly and looking around for any lights-

And paused, as he started to pick up a sort of directional rhythm pattern to the calls. 

North, north west, north east. South, south west, south east. West, east, and then a lengthy pause. The spiked wolf tilted her head to the side, watching him as he slowly turned, orienting on each call and the howls that joined in. At the next lengthy pause, he quirked a brow at her. 

"Not going to join them?"

The howling started again, discordant and carried by a multitude of voices, and the next time there was a lengthy pause... She tipped her head back and let out a howl that had him clapping his hands over his ears with the intensity of it. It rumbled through him, shook through him until it was rattling his bones and brought him to his knees. 

The sound stopped, and a nose wider than his torso edged into his view as he panted and slowly lowered his hands. It was large and it was wet and it gently nudged his forehead. He slowly, ever so carefully, pushed himself up and stared at the beast that had her ears back and was searching his face with those too-intelligent eyes. 

The howling started back up, but it was _different_ now. Each voice seemed to weave more with the others, and instead of discordant, they all began to blend. A chorus, that wove through the vocal range that wolves possessed. She remained silent through it, but he joined her at the edge of the cliff filled with an understanding he didn't have before. 

They howled until midnight, celebrating the emergence of the aurora borealis, before finally they all went quiet. She led him back to the edge of the aetheric disturbance that blanketed the forest before turning back, and as he watched she made her way over to the large black spiked wolves that had trailed behind like some sort of honour guard. One looked at her, ears flicking before she rumbled and tossed her head, shaking out her mane.

They all disappeared into the darkness of the woods, and he was left to find his way back on his own.

* * *

He found her, roughly a month later, at the Agricultural Center shearing sheep by hand. 

"Hullo, 'Selch." 

"'Ton. Please, explain to me -why- I almost got eaten by wolves." 

"Hmm. Because you're an idiot?" She shrugged, keeping her back to him as she shooed the now bare sheep away. "I didn't actually expect you to go, to be honest."

"I trecked _miles_ out into the countryside, into a stretch of forest that aetheric positioning systems _do not work in_, all to listen to some furred _beasts_ howl at each other for hours." The Architect folded his arms, watching the way her aether wound tight and her soul hardened. "You could have at least found level ground for me to build a cabin on. But no, instead I have to go and get _deafened_ by your _ho-_"

She spun, going from sullen to delighted even as she surged up and clapped a hand over his mouth. Blue eyes contained by steel grey danced with glee as her mouth split into a happy, toothy grin, but the world around them had gone _suspiciously_ quiet. 

_Don't say that. Don't breath a word. _ She was mouthing these things to him, face close to his before slowly lowering her hand. He huffed even as he folded his arms. 

"As I was saying, by your _horrible idea_ of a concert." It hadn't been what he had been about to say. He feigned indignation as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, every sense suddenly on edge and alert. "The next time you decide to prank me, do it somewhere I'm less liable to get _eaten_."

"No harm no foul." She turned, beckoning to one of the sheep. "While you're here though, you might as well lend me a hand." 

"Hmm, no, I think I have _quite_ had my fill of animals." Turning around, he made for the door and then glanced back at her. "Hythlodaeus wished to see me, after all, to discuss what movie we would like to rent tonight. You are, of course, invited."

She waved. "I'll see what I can do."

With that, he turned and exited the stable. Politely, he nodded to one of the stablehands, who watched him go with yellow eyes and a toothy smirk. 

He would like to have said that his pace had remained slow and steady as he made his way to the aetherite, but he would have been _lying_. 

* * *

It was only fair.

Hythlodaeus completely _disagreed _with the plan, but that had never stopped either of them from doing something stupid. While as Emet-Selch he couldn't _lie_ without severe repercussions (he had tried _once_ directly and the pain afterwards had been _unbelievable_) he was something of a natural when it came to twisting the truth. As such, he arranged for Hythlodaeus to wear his mask and robes (the man was basically his twin, and with a little bit of hair dye could pass for him with _ease_) and sent the Head Enforcer out to draw off his tails. He set out wearing the plain grey robes and white mask, straightened his posture from his horrible slouch to one more natural of citizen and positively _blended_ with the crowd. 

Just another citizen. Yep. Nothing unusual there. 

The only thing he had that confirmed she had waited where he had told her to wait was that after three blocks he finally noticed one of her own Enforcers ambling around with a frown on her face. That was proof enough that she was in the area. He waited by the lamp post for exactly three minutes, walked around it once, waited another three minutes and then finally turned and gracefully meandered away. 

Two blocks away he he was levering up a sewer drain and almost leapt out of his skin as she seemed to materialize next to him to help. Neither of them said anything, and she muscled it back down after they both had climbed down the rungs. This section of the sewers, at least, was generally dry and didn't smell foul. He ran, and she chased after him with an easy, loping gait before he found the section of wall he was looking for and pressed it inward. 

The entire section pivoted, and she followed him in, watching as it closed behind them. 

She had _questions_, but kept them to herself as he produced the tiniest bit of light and led her down, down through tunnels that intersected with natural caves that had been worn over the ages with the passing of people. The thick layer of dust proved that rarely did anyone go down there. They came to a door set into a wall, and he turned to the left and traced a pattern across the bare stone there. 

It shimmered, before simply forgetting that walls were supposed to be solid. Taking her by the hand, he led her through, and into the great cavern beyond. 

It had been called the 'Crystal Cathedral' by the previous Emet-Selch. He had timed their arrival just right. A sunbeam was hitting the exposed part of the crystal vein that led up into the city and was the centerpiece of the Engineering district. The light was channeled down, amplified and made to spread through the branching vein so that it lit the entire chamber. Pillars of crystal supported the ceiling, and the entire thing fairly gleamed. 

Quartz cathedrals, raw veins of amethyst and other gemstones were arranged through the entire length of the chamber. They approached and he tucked a hand against one of the pillars, sending a soft surge of aether through it. It lit up faintly, revealing a body encased within like an insect caught in amber. The expression on their face was _peaceful_, and her jaw dropped at the implications. 

He led her through the pillars, all the way back to where the original Emet-Selch sat on a throne of marble that was also encased in the translucent crystal, just as he was. Ritually, Hades dipped into a formal, polite bow, and he felt rather more than he saw her mimic the gesture. 

The room began to dim, and he led her back the way they had come. Back up, through the sewers, back out into the city where they split as if they were strangers. 

* * *

Neither of them had held office for very long. Maybe three hundred years. They were both incredibly young, talented, and... Very _very_ prone to flights of fancy. In public, he was mildly sarcastic and charming when he needed to be, but otherwise generally charismatic. She was... 

She was... _not._

Eschaton was slowly but surely building a reputation for being _reserved_, poised, graceful. Everything she actually _wasn't,_ in his opinion. She held a wisdom to her, and was a welcome difference from the eccentricities of the former Eschaton who had never shown up wearing the same thing twice. She was stunningly, _boringly_ normal at whatever meetings she made it to. 

Every time he would expect her to say something sarcastic, witty, mildly acidic or teasing to the other Convocation members, she simply remained quiet or spoke a handful of words of advice. Elidibus and Lahabrea were the only two who seemed to notice, and Emet-Selch only came to that conclusion because the former kept frowning at her whenever the Architect felt the urge to and the latter kept trying to get her to talk. 

He couldn't get anything from her soul, to gauge how interested she was. He might as well have studied one of the walls, for all the emotion she was letting escape her. 

He had tried to talk to her about it but she had looked at him and laughed, saying that she couldn't explain it if she tried. Instead, she had finished weaving the grasses in her hands into a hat to distract him from the tendril of vine that then latched onto his ankle and hauled him from the tree to dangle him, sputtering and cursing close to the small pond. 

He didn't understand why until later. He had gone to another of her 'concerts', making his way to the small cabin he had built _by hand_ (the aetheric interference made creation magic risky, and while he probably -could- have it was interesting, watching these rhino-sized, spiked wolves haul trees over) and as he sat on the log he had dragged to the cliff and listened to the patterns that were being woven through the air, he glanced over at where she lay. Her head was on her paws, eyes closed but ears perked and flicking towards each and every set of howls that rose up to them on the cliff. 

The similarities between her demeanor during the meetings and 'concerts' were obvious, once he was looking for them. Mentally, he started calling it her 'work mode', and burst out into laughter when he imagined her transforming into a wolf in the middle of one of Lahabrea's boring speeches. Eschaton had cracked one large, blue eye open to stare at him, rumbling inquisitively, but he only waved her away. It bordered on crossing the line drawn by the Enforcers that lounged around the clearing behind them, black furred, yellow eyed and watching him _constantly_. 

"Simply imagining a co-worker faced with your presence. I daresay, he would _incessantly_ attempt to get you to speak, wouldn't he."

She lifted her head, ears flicking before letting out the quietest '_woof'._ That great, shaggy tail shifted and wove slightly. 

"Well, this is _my_ concert. Should he ever attempt to follow me, your pack is _more_ than welcome to eat him." 

The skin and fur around her eyes tightened, before she panted laughter.

* * *

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped outside. A bird, wings and tail feathers banded with blue, flit down from the lamp post and settled onto his shoulder to chirp and whistle incessantly in his ear. For all that he winced, he stared at it and then pursed his lips, before rolling up his report, stuffing it into a pocket and taking off running for the aetherite. From there, he traveled to the Agricultural District and took off running for the Agri Center.

Soon enough, he found himself wading through water, watching as people rushed about to erect barriers and channel as much of it as they could into the drains, but it wasn't doing much for the way the district had gained it's own personal _monsoon_. Winds buffeted him, and the bird tucked into his hood, shivering and wet and chirping in his ear. 

When he got to the building, the Enforcers were out and about keeping people clear from the building. He was only mildly surprised to find that some of Lahabrea's were there as well, and as he watched their leader was arguing with Eschaton's Head Enforcer about whether they needed to go in or not. The answer was an adamant _no_, because of the Secrets of Eschaton. As is, from the shouting he overheard, Lahabrea was likely going to have to be detained for _questioning_ in addition to rampant property damage. 

He went around the side, and nodded in thanks as a yellow-eyed Eschaton Enforcer looked pointedly away. The bird that had tucked into his hood flit out to go and settle onto the Enforcer's shoulder. Emet-Selch climbed up the side of the building and was only mildly surprised that Hythlodaeus was already up there, waiting for him. 

"What happened?"

"I don't know, I can't get close enough to tell." Rafail lifted a hand, trying to keep his hood from flying back before gesturing downwards with the other. "The entire building is filled with water, and Lahabrea seems like he's fighting something. Need a pretense?"

"Concerns about flooding is what I'm going with."

Hythlodaeus nodded, and hauled open the skylight for him. The Architect took a deep breath, let it out, and then wove a minor enchantment that would let him breath water for a time and a secondary spell to give himself flight before drifting up and diving down. 

The water was dark, and very cold. A third layer of magic warded off the worst of it, and he reached out through the aetheric to get a sense where things might be above and beyond what he remembered of the layout. 

_There_, icy fury, Lahabrea was fighting something large, something fast, and something that felt _cunning_. Some large, dumb animal, except that he _knew_ what to look for, and as she rocketed through the water towards him he held out a hand and grabbed onto the triangular fin that brushed against his gloved fingers. He was given the impression of sleek silver, and as he pressed against her streamlined body became accidentally acquainted with the spikes that lined her spine. 

She surfaced, and he had enough time to note the plume of water and air that was exhaled out and up and that the water levels were rising within the building before he _felt_ the ripple under his fingers. Smooth dark grey flesh sprouted layered, armored scales. the triangular fin on her back went from largely flesh to a webbed spine, and the rounded, blunted nose elongated and gained row upon row of _teeth_. Gills opened along either side of her head, and four powerful flippers moved in tandem to push her through the water. 

She must have been sixty feet long, snout to finned tail tip, and as the temperature in the water continued to drop he realized that Lahabrea was trying to _freeze_ her. Well now, he just couldn't have _that_. He shifted one hand from the fin to her back, and started to trace a pattern against her scales. They came around, and he paused in his efforts to hold on as she twisted and hip-checked Lahabrea through the water and into one of the sturdy support pillars. 

As she straightened out, he finished his spell and felt it suffuse her with a layer of warmth that would prevent the Speaker from freezing her gills shut, and not a moment too soon. Ice bloomed around them, and she snapped her head from side to side to batter them out of her way as she continued swimming, circling, weaving gracefully between the pillars. 

She twisted suddenly, and he gripped tighter before realizing Lahabrea was _right there_, that he held an elaborate trident that was buried into her side, that she had shifted to protect him. He didn't even think about it, letting go of her and swinging with both hands cupped around the red crystalline staff that materialized in his grasp. It caught Lahabrea across the side of the head, and the resulting surge of aether on contact sent the Architect back and the Speaker off to thump against a pillar.

The water abruptly vanished, and there she hung in mid-air for a brief moment, trident still embedded into her side in the form of spiked mosasaurus. One blue eye was intent on him before he reached out for her, darkness blooming out from his location. He smiled as her hand found his, and he grunted as he took her weight and held them steady in mid-air. A combined effort surged against his concentration, and he obligingly let the obscurment fade even as he drifted to the ground to set her on her feet. 

The other Convocation members stormed into the building. He checked her over for injuries and hid his bafflement at how there were none. She grinned at him, and took his hand before gently squeezing it. 

_"I knew you wouldn't be afraid__."_ she said to him, delighted, and he huffed even as he rested his crystalline staff against his shoulder. 

* * *

He took her back to his apartment, considering hers was basically her office, had been located in the Agri Center, and had flooded just as well as the rest of the building. He counted no fewer than fifteen of her Enforcers, which was somewhat of a revelation considering he had never seen more than a half dozen of the large black wolves and himself only had seven including Hythlodaeus. He wondered briefly just how many she had. 

They never approached too close. He couldn't blame them for their curiosity and caution, considering Lahabrea had just _attacked_ her. Still, their presence didn't stop him from raising the barriers woven into the very walls of his apartment for privacy. She raided his towels as he started puttering around the kitchen, making coffee and soup. Something warm, something simple, and when he turned around with two mugs he dropped both of them as she rounded the corner, utterly naked and toweling her hair with a grin. 

"_Persephone!_" He sputtered, her name an indignant squawk as he spun in place and stared resolutely at the stove. 

"What? Oh come _on_, you just saw me naked not even an hour ago. It's not the first time." The amusement in her voice was plain, and she dropped the towel into the spilled coffee before toeing at it to try and clean it up. 

"But you- That was-"

"And all those times on the cliff. You even checked me for a _gender_ that first time." 

He choked quietly, lifting both hands to his face. He _had_. But surely her _fur_ counted as clothing, right? _Right_? 

She heaved a sigh, before snapping her fingers. "There, all my girly bits covered and everything. Happy?" 

"Closer to _mentally scarred_." Still, he slowly peeked over his shoulder before taking in the fact that she was wearing one of his housecoats and frowning at him. 

"... You're... You're not scared, are you? Our people have always had a degree of flexibility with our physical forms, but... You know it's still me, right? No matter what I look like?"

He blinked at her, before realizing what she was getting at and tutting softly. Kneeling down, he started to clean up the mess of the two broken mugs. 

"-Please-, of course it would still be you. You're half beast at any given time. Just look at your wolf legs."

"Hades, my legs are people legs."

"With that much hair?"

She didn't quite strangle him, but with the headlock she got him in it was a close thing.

* * *

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it _properly_. 

He filed his vacation, dutifully asked Hythlodaeus to accompany him to avoid having to facepalm as his guards stumbled and failed at sneaking through the terrain behind him as they tried to tail him and set out. It was a four day trip to the former Emet-Selch's latest project, and they met with no trouble along the way. They found the flying construct drifting among some islands that seemed content to drift idly through the air. 

From there, they met with the retired woman that had trained him outside of a cafe, before Hythlodaeus started running interference and asking for her advice regarding how the previous Hythlodaeus had run things, as well as trying to run ideas past her as Hades started to subtly make his exit. He thought he was doing pretty well, right up until the point where she called out to inform him that _Zeus_ was in the garden.He didn't quite put two and two together until he turned around and offered her a polite smile and then realized that _Zeus_ was probably the name of the former Eschaton. 

And so, to the garden he went. 

He found him sprawled out in the grass, eyes closed as a few butterflies danced through the air above him. They circled a few more times before flitting away as he approached. 

"Demeter sent you to me, then?"

"Are the laws truly so lax this far out that the two of you should so freely share your names?" Hades quirked a brow, staring down at the chuckling, robed figure. 

"It's not as if we're going back. Come, sit. Your stride is heavy with purpose."

Emet-Selch did as he was bid, and the silence was a comfortable one as Zeus opened his eyes and stared at the sky. 

"I have heard quite a few things, you know." The former Eschaton started, candid, and letting his smile fade. "Even this far out, rumours spread. A week ago, the Agri Center flooded. Do you know why?"

"Lahabrea had a _fit_ from what I could tell." The sense of comfort was rapidly bleeding from the air, and he idly settled his hands on his lap, trying to maintain his composure. "I've already repaired it."

"Word is that you built her a garden of some kind, that she said she loved it in public and that he confronted her about it. He's a terribly jealous person. You _put her in danger_." Zeus pushed himself up, staring over at Emet-Selch even as the sunlight waned and disappeared behind the growing storm clouds. "She was injured, because of _you_. She could have died, because of _you_."

Hades clenched his jaw, because these were the same things he had repeated to himself in the quiet moments before she had laughed them away. He took a slow breath, and let it out carefully. 

"_She_ is the current Eschaton. If you think for an instant that Lahabrea could actually _kill_ her, then you do her a disservice. I could not stop her from fighting if I _tried_, Sir. All I can do is ensure her health after the fact."

Zeus laughed easily, delighted by the determination in his answer. "Good. _Good._ Eschaton are built of tougher stuff than the rest of you City-folk. You have a question for me, though. I'll only answer one, so make it count." 

"What would you do if she and I were to Bond?" Emet-Selch fired right back, eyes narrowing. He had _prepared_ for this. Planned for it, even.

"No hesitation. You even know what you're getting into. I note that you are not asking me if I would bless such a thing, just how angry I would be if the two of you did this thing." The former Eschaton let a wide grin play out across his face, all teeth as Hades lifted his chin, the very picture of determination. "Good. That's how it should be. Best to know what awaits you for something your heart decided centuries ago. To answer, I would test your worthiness by inviting you to a Hunt. I'm not the Eschaton. Several of my friends are no longer her Enforcers. Your friend is the head of your own little honour guard, and would be prompted to keep the others from interfering."

"A hunt." Hades repeated the term, and thought back to the 'concert'. "I would be the prey, no doubt."

"Well now, just as clever as I've come to expect."

"Pick a day then. I plan to ask her within the year." Pale gold eyes met stormy blue lit with rainbow glitters, and Zeus canted his head to the side and _grinned_. 

"I choose today. Start running, little boy, let us see just how much of a man you are."

* * *

_Very_ generous of the old man to give him a full thirty minutes head start. He had enough time to go, ask Hythlodaeus to wish him good luck and then take off down the street. Demeter had idly mentioned about it being her turn to keep their conversation at the table, and his friend had muttered something about _idiots_ before leaning back in his chair and waving him away. Hades wasted no time, pulling a few items from his pack and taking off down the street, heading for the edge of town. Once he was in the uneven, sparsely wooded terrain, he paced himself and smothered his presence as best he could. 

A shriek went up from the edge of town. He started tearing his robes to pieces, scattering shreds of it and hustling back across his own path before taking to the trees. He was picturing wolves, he was picturing great black sleek things with spikes, he was hiding far enough up that he could see the first of them as it pounded through the clearing. It was not what he pictured.

It was not a wolf at _all_. Body of a great cat, forelimbs and head of an eagle, coupled with a grand pair of swan wings that were folded neatly against it's back, it was protected by bark-like paneling that sheathed it like a suit of barding. It was studying each of the shreds of cloth, taloned forelimbs digging through the dirt before it nosed along and started back out with a smooth, loping gate. 

He had a feeling that he had erred in his tactics. This was _not_ a scent-based hunter, not at _all_. Shimmying back down the tree, he started to rub dirt across his pale skin before thinking about what he knew of the lay of the land. Though the woods were somewhat sparse there was a thicker, denser batch of them just a little ways out. Across a giant, open field of tall grasses. He grit his teeth, put his head down, and _ran_. 

Wings beat overhead, and Zeus crashed through the trees above, talons curling through air as Hades dove to the side and picked himself back up, resuming his sprint. Footsteps thundered after him as the creature hit the ground and turned, coming after him. Gaining, even, considering four legs drove the beast. He could see the edge of the trees, and just as it came for him he curled his fingers and dropped, hitting the ground as illusion wrapped him in invisibility and a secondary one dove to the side into a bush that rustled. 

He had never been quite so thankful that he was a scrawny whelp as he was when all four of the clawed, taloned limbs thundered around and past him, missing him entirely. The illusion popped out of the bush it had 'rustled' and turned, sprinting through wheat that parted with the 'force' of it's passing, and the beast that had slowed snapped it's gaze over and took to the sky. Partially circling, it oriented and began to dive. 

Hades simply turned and edged carefully through the sparse treeline, circling around the large field as he took stock of what it seemed like it could do. A low growl halted him, and he turned to take stock of the large, yellow-eyed wolf that was staring through him, nose twitching. 

Oh. Right. Some of the former Eschaton's _friends_. It seemed he would have to fight after all. Invisibility was largely useless against things that tracked by scent. 

Not fair at _all_. 

She would have _laughed_ at him. He would have laughed at himself. A careful gesture pulled his crystalline staff out of thin air and as the wolf growled, he brought it to bear.

* * *

He had beaten three of the former Enforcers. The first with a bit of luck (he did _not_ envy the man the headache he was going to wake up with) after clubbing him into the ground and the next two by scooping them both up in an orb of aether that imprisoned them. He left their heads sticking out of it, and used it as bait in case any others came by to free them. One more, plus Zeus himself who circled above, learning and watching before simply climbing too high for Hades to keep track of him. 

That was fine. He preferred to deal with the small fry before moving on to the main course, after all. Besides, he had a _secret_ or two of his own, and all he needed was to collect the last of them before he could get to work. Waste not, and all that. Now where was... Aha. There. The orb drifted slightly to the left and he sketched a circle in the air, before pressing his palm against it. A surge of aether scooped up the last of the former Enforcers and mushed them into the orb with the others, before he tapped the butt end of the staff against the ground. 

The aether sphere that the former Enforcers were trapped within rotated, compacted and then hardened into marble as a scrolling set of metal legs and cradle materialized to support it against the ground. Safely contained, Hades smirked and made his way out to the middle of the field, staring upwards, trying to find Zeus among the storm clouds that had rolled in. It was threatening to rain, but what worried him was the rumble of thunder and brief flashes of lightning. He hoped the old man hadn't gotten himself _killed_... 

Aether surged, and he dove to the side as a bolt of lightning hit the ground where he had been standing. Scrambling up, he had the faintest whispers of aether to guide him as he tried to avoid getting struck. The field he stood in was starting to catch fire, and he tutted even as he gestured, pulling an iron rod out of the ground and planting it before stepping away as the next strike was drawn to the lightning rod. Hah. Your move, old man-

The next strike hit the rod and _arched_ to him, coursing through him and sending him to the ground where he laid, face down. Unmoving. Faintly, the flutter of wings could be heard, before an inquisitive shriek ripped through the air. The smell of ozone built, before he felt the tickle of the aether that acted as a guide for each strike center on him. There was a crack as it snapped through the air, before he was growling, gripping the staff and pulling the strongest shield he could muster about himself and scattering the bolt of lightning. 

Hades pushed himself up, and above his head formed a crown that began to slowly, almost lazily spin. Smothering the way part of his robes were smouldering with a slight gesture, he set the staff to float beside him and threw both hands out towards the former Eschaton. 

Aetheric claws tore through the air where Zeus had previously hovered, vanishing almost as quickly as they formed before recreating themselves elsewhere. They followed the erratic flight path, snatching at feathers that trailed behind and finally swatting the beast to the ground where it hit, rolled, and sprang back up. Lifting it's head to the sky, it let out a shriek and spread the slightly crumpled wings, two clawed hands reaching with intent to grasp before they were blown to pieces by the nova of lightning that expanded outwards. Taking two steps, Zeus started to push off, trying to make his way back into the sky but halted abruptly as crystal clutched at his form's hind feet. It rapidly grew up and over him, and he broke it off in chunks before finally succumbing and getting dragged to the ground. 

An insect in amber. Hades drifted over and raised a hand, halting the growth of the crystal as it fed on the former Eschaton's aether. 

"Do you yield, Zeus?"

The beaked head pecked at the crystal a few times, before looking at him and chirping innocently. 

"-Please-, 'tis clear who the winne-"

Something hit him from behind, and hit him _hard_. Knocked clear out of the air, he shifted and tried to get his hands and feet under him, pushing himself up before pain exploded through his head. The last thing he saw was the former Eschaton casually shrugging out of the crystal that encased him. 

* * *

He had a _massive_ headache. It pounded through him with the rest of his pulse, and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring up at utterly amused, familiar steel coloured eyes that were suffused with flecks of blue. 

"Well, look who's back in the land of the living."

He grumbled something incoherantly, and closed his eyes. She jostled him, and he winced before cracking an eye back open and finally noting the cup of water she was presenting to him. 

"You did good, all things considered. Not bad at all. Sort of pointless, though. All this male posturing. "

"... Was not." Accepting the cup, the Architect sat up somewhat and then blinked as she offered her other hand out to him, a couple of sprigs of plant matter he didn't recognize laying atop her palm. "Chew and swallow?"

"Chew and spit out. I've got another cup here." He accepted the herbs, chewing as directed and then spitting the masticated remains into the empty cup she offered. He chased the bitterness away with a mouthful of water, and then lifted a hand to massage at his brow.

"What hit me?"

"My uncle." She snickered as he grunted, before leaning back in her chair. Looking around, he was able to see they were in his apartment. "Dad brought you back. You've only been out six or so hours, and Raf is furious with you. So why were you getting the stuffing knocked out of you, by the way?"

He looked at her, and then looked away, trying to think of a convincing half-truth through the pounding in his head that was slowly easing. 

"I _know_ that look. Don't be like that, Hades. Tell me, and tell me plain."

"... You'll laugh."

"Promise I won't."

He mulled it over, before lifting the glass to his mouth and muttering quietly into it. 

"Sorry, didn't catch that. C'mon, Hades. You're being unreasonable."

"Because I want to Bond with you!" He shouted into the cup, before taking a sip of water, feeling the way his face went red as he stared resolutely at the bookshelf across the room. As the silence stretched, he side-eyed her and then felt himself wilt at the frown on her face.

"You have a concussion. Ah- I see what you might say, written on your face. I'm _ecstatic_ that you feel that way, but I'm also... Ugh, words are so _clumsy-_" And then she was pressed against his soul, passing through the barriers he normally held as if they were _nothing_, and a thousand tiny moments bloomed through his mind. Countless people followed, subtly, so carefully that she hadn't been noticed at all, voices overlapping as they picked at one oddity or another of the Eschaton and the Agricultural district. A hundred and one suspicions and moments of paranoia. Ten children, daring one another to sneak into the scariest place they knew of - the walls that kept people out of her domain, just as much as they kept her own people in. One Elidibus, talking tiredly about how he wished routine inspections such as the current one simply weren't necessary, but it kept the fear of the _people_ from getting out of hand. 

The moments changed, private talks with Hythlodaeus about how the rumour mill was starting to change, how the reputation of Emet-Selch was starting to get frayed by the more suspicious of people that knew he had built her the Hanging Gardens. Whens and wheres, before the head of his Enforcers doled his forces out to go and take care of the rumours, to scrub graffiti off of the walls. And then there was Lahabrea. 

Hades tensed slightly as she showed him countless tiny moments where the Speaker had sworn that her reputation didn't matter, where he pressed and pressed and _pressed_, trying to get her to agree to Bond with him, trying to convince her that with his support, her reputation would flourish instead of wither. He felt the way she pitied Lahabrea, and understood that her reputation meant nothing to her, how she could see through him to the core and knew that yes, he loved her in his own way, but couldn't seem to accept that she didn't share those feelings. He laid hands on her shoulders, promising great things, and when she told him _no_ he slapped her. It had surprised him just as much as it surprised her, and he had gaped at his own hand as if it had betrayed him.

She wasn't _delicate_. Eschaton had retaliated immediately with a heavy right cross. He hadn't liked that, hadn't expected her to be physically strong the way she was, and things escalated from there. Everyone had vacated the building as the water started to rise, and she led him on a saddening chase weaving through the pillars.

There was concern there. Worry, not for herself, but for _him_. For _Hades._

"How... You can share memories." He stared at her as she drew back, jaw hanging slightly open as he reached out and cupped the sides of her face. She partially cringed, partially smiled. 

"Yeah. I can get them from others, too. It was initially designed to be part of a non-verbal communication system to share concepts and ideas with animals, and the third Eschaton started letting people know we could do it, but then there was an outcry about how he could see _anything_ from the other person and... Nobody liked that. So the rumours were stamped out. Now it's just another Eschaton secret." 

"Emet-Selchs can do something similar, but not quite. It only works on the dead, and only those properly preserved for within a specific type of crystal. The Wisdom of those Passed. 'Tis how we share so much knowledge from generation to generation, and ensure a consistent image of the city. Every blueprint, stored and preserved forever."

"A bit different from my Living Memory then." Her smile softened and she settled down next to him, sighing quietly. "... Three days. Make sure you get your wits back. If you still feel the same way, then I'll give you my answer then."

* * *

Three days later she _officially_ returned from whatever trip had taken her out of the city. He stood up in front of the entire assembled Convocation, told them he loved her, asked her to Bond with him over the shouting and, grinning, she had climbed up onto the table and stepped back down beside him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. 

The next day, Hythlodaeus mentioned to them both that Lahabrea had called an emergency meeting to discuss removing them both from their respective titles. They had shared a glance and had gone over to the window, where she opened it and whistled and he poked his head out and _focused_. In the distance, the meeting hall shook and rumbled as she whispered something quietly to the little birds that were flocking to her, before they scattered. Rafail answered his phone when Elidibus called him, and the rumbling from the other end of the line was almost deafening. 

Why, _yes_, both Emet-Selch and Eschaton were there. Meeting? What meeting? Hold on. Let him put the Architect on the phone.

At length, the meeting hall stopped threatening to collapse, and Hades turned a smirk to the two of them even as he returned the phone to Hythlodaeus, and mentioned the vacation he had secured for all of them. 

Within the month, out in the wilds, sitting by a campfire and surrounded by what seemed like the entire population of the Agricultural District, Eschaton announced to her people that she was going to Bond with him, and the party lasted for almost a whole week. 

There were indeed paints made of crushed berries, coloured dust that was thrown at each other, and all kinds of contests. The only major oddities he found were that they had a hunting competition, cooked what they killed and that went towards the constant feasting in addition to a nightly thanks given to the Lifestream that consisted of everyone bowing their heads, remaining silent for a moment, and then going right back to partying.

He had gone so far through hungover that he had come out the otherside into recovery and clarity, chipped a tooth and bruised some ribs from an accident with some of the more rough and tumble members of her extended 'family', but all in all he found it quite an experience. They slept when they wanted to, ate when they wished, and with the river near by bathed and played as they so desired. Whatever creature comforts that the city held for him were far and away. They didn't have books out there, they had stories preserved in a living memory among them all and he could listen to Persephone talk for _hours_. One day, he had insisted on it in fact. The idea had caught like wildfire and, armed with a variety of beverages, she sat on the edge of the stage and did so to the lot of them.

He danced, he laughed, he sang (because everyone was drunk, and Eschaton was _worse_ at it than he was and still trying her damnedest) and all in all, while he would hesitate to make a habit of something that required quite that much energy for quite that long, had a good time all around. At the end of it all, she took his hand, led him to a secret glen of soft mosses that was hidden away from the world by the drooping boughs of a willow tree. 

They didn't leave until long after the sun had risen and tracked across the sky, leaning against one another. Together. As one. 

Bonded.


	51. Ascian Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to post about Ascians makin' pancakes,  
makin' bacon pancakes  
(happy 200k words!)

It took a very special kind of skill to avoid waking the Warrior. He knew the moment the vessel she was curled against so much as moved, she would start to stir. As such, when he registered two of the Ascians at the door to his chambers, he shifted the bulk of his consciousness to the vessel that had been reclining on the couch and went up to go and answer the door. 

It was Halmarut and Mitron, and both of them paused mid-discussion as the door slid aside to reveal them. 

"Architect." The former inclined his head politely, before clearing his throat and lifting a hand to stroke idly through his beard. "Has Eschaton woken yet?" 

"Weaver. Eschaton this, Eschaton _that_, do you truly think so little of me that I might not be able to aid you instead?" 

"Emet-Selch, take pity on the poor man." Elidibus smiled as he rounded the corner, inclining his head politely. "Everyone wants to thank her, you know that. Meanspirited, to tease them like that."

"Emissary." A smirk curled the corners of his mouth as he leaned on the doorframe and folded his arms. "She yet sleeps. 'Tis hardly my fault that I grow bored while waiting for her, and easy, idle amusement is a treat unto itself."

"We, all of us, understand that she is yours." Smoothly, the white-robed Ascian crossed the distance to stand beside Halmarut, smiling slightly. "The others have felt the gathering, and it gives them the bravery to approach. While we are gathered, perhaps we should discuss what our current goals are."

Hades tutted softly, shaking his head ruefully. "All work and no play makes Elidibus a dull boy."

"If that's what you think then you are entitled to your own opinion. I was, however, referring to what we might do to thank her for our freedom. Instead of several small blind efforts to gauge and feel what she might appreciate, I believe instead we should ask an expert on the matter and do something as a communal effort." The Emissary clasped his hands behind his back, leaning slightly to glance behind Emet-Selch, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. "Lo and behold, we have an expert in our midst. Curious. Your rooms are larger than mine."

"The price of being _forced_ to share with the Eschaton. A sacrifice I am more than willing to make for the greater good." Tucking a hand against his chest dramatically, Emet-Selch then leaned forward to watch as three more Ascians almost skittishly approached. "Good. Everyone's here." 

"Won't she hear us with the door open?" Mitron shifted, trying to peer past the Architect who rolled his eyes. 

"She _would_, if I were an _idiot_ and had neglected to put up anything resembling a barrier to mute the sounds. In the mean time, I find myself quite enjoying the fact that none of you dare push past me to disturb her." Hades smirked, smug even as he refolded his arms. 

"Back to the task at hand." Elildibus shifted to stand opposite of the Architect, the others instinctively forming up so that they stood in a circle. "We are all in agreement that something must be done to thank her. She didn't have to come back and save me. She didn't have to choose to save any of us. But she did. While we are, regrettably, still recovering and may take some time yet to do so, there are other things that we might be able to accomplish to give thanks and show our appreciation."

"What it comes down to, is how much is that worth to us? Surely we must repay her with something of equal value." Pashtarot shifted where he stood, shoulders hunching slightly.

"The general premise is that you are given the option of either assisting us with our goals, or staying out of the way. Certainly, you could attempt to repay her for the ability to _choose _but we all know what it is we really want to repay her for." Halmarut cleared his throat slightly, looking at Emet-Selch. "While I am a firm believer that we lacked options and choices, we completely disregarded her when it came to Zodiark. And that, is not something we can repay in her mortal lifetime. Instead, I propose we simply make ourselves available to her as a resource." 

"All well and good, however what if we pooled our efforts and raised her as we have been." Mitron glanced between the others. Fandaniel was nodding slowly. "Then, we will have ample time."

"The issue with such is that thus will expend effort better spent elsewhere. Let us class this potentiality as a level three goal." Elidibus raising one hand and holding three fingers up. "Not immediately necessary to deal with, but something to eventually be worked towards. Currently, I would like to keep us working on something small. Something to allow us to continue to become comfortable with the truths and realities we have all been forced to face. As much as I may dislike to admit it, my recent behavior has been..."

"Deplorable? Atrocious? Bordering on unforgivable?" Emet-Selch drawled as he continued to lean on the doorway, quirking a brow. 

"I will apologize to her when I am able to, just as I have attempted to apologize to you. She is your wife, and I have wronged both of you in this matter." Gracefully, the Emissary inclined his head, before looking at the others. "I believe I speak for all of us, when I say that our first step must be small, must be cautious, and above all honest. What is your recommendation, Architect? What does Eschaton accept as peace offerings?"

Hades thought about that for a moment, brows furrowing. "Food, largely. Definitely alcohol, but such is not a group effort as I believe the Emissary wishes. Unless, of course, everyone _wishes_ to get drunk under the table by someone who's memory only properly extends back the last three decades or so, barring the double handful of memories she had recovered otherwise."

"... Surely you cannot be _serious_." Emmerlolth stared at him, her lips pursing as he quirked a brow. 

"I don't _lie_. I may twist the truth, however _you_ have never seen her down a fine brandy as if it was _water_." 

"I meant... About her memory. Even we Sundered have regained more than that." She frowned, folding her arms. "Poor thing..." 

"Oh _spare_ her your pity. She doesn't want it. To pity her only invites her to draw on your face as you sleep." 

"Shall I add a potential method to restore her memories to our agenda?" Elidibus folded one arm, the other coming up to tap a finger against his lips.

Mitron nodded rapidly. "Equal priority to finding a way to raise her-"

"Enough. You've all gotten horribly off topic, as _always_. Small wonder why I always avoided these little meetings." Emet-Selch rolled his eyes. "We are in agreement that food is the appropriate first step?"

Black hoods nodded all around, before the Emissary joined in. "Of course. The next step, would be to determine what manner of food. What are the resources we have on hand?"

"Eggs, milk, bacon. Ham. Potatoes. Flour, a selection of fruits. Water, syrup, basic cooking supplies otherwise. Can any of you cook?" The Architect glanced among the suddenly sheepish-looking hooded Ascians, though Elidibus was slowly nodding. "Zodiark's Mercy, what did all of you _do_ with your spare time. You cannot say you _didn't_ have any."

"I can... make coffee." Halmarut weakly offered, and Mitron gently papped a fist against the flat of his other hand. 

"I can run a microwave." 

"We don't have one of those here." Emet-Selch blandly, gently countered, and Fandaniel cleared his throat. 

"I've... I've cooked eggs before. Using water." 

"Lovely. Emmerlolth? Lohgrif? _Pashtarot?_" The Architect glanced at the others. 

"Not I."

"I understand the key elements of fire, so I may be able to improvise."

"I always ordered takeout or simply Created my food." Finished the last of those named, poking the pointy ends of the extensions of his gloves together. 

"Elidibus?" Emet-Selch gave the Emissary a pleading look that turned into something of a glare as the white-robed Ascian cleared his throat politely. 

"It's never too late to learn new skills?"

"Oh for the love of..."

* * *

He opened a void rift and ushered them all into his kitchen, unwilling to risk them waking up the Warrior by simply _walking_. They clustered around the table, believing there was safety in numbers. There was none to be found. He had been the _Emperor of Garlemald,_ clawing his way up from the bottom. They weren't the best, but they were what he had. 

He had triumphed against worse odds. Besides, the only thing he intended to do was guide them. Ascians tended to be intelligent, inquisitive people. He marshaled his forces and dragged one of the chairs away from the table to the center of the kitchen, before sitting down and folding one leg over the other. He snapped his fingers, and the black robed Ascians flinched slightly. 

"Listen well. I will _not_ repeat myself unless I absolutely _must_. Per batch of pancakes - Fandaniel you may wish to write this down - one and a half cups of flour. Three and a half teaspoons of baking powder. One teaspoon of salt. One tablespoon of _white_ sugar. One and a quarter cups of milk. One egg. Three tablespoons of melted butter. This will provide roughly eight pancakes, in quarter-cup increments. Pashtarot! What was the third thing on this list."

"One teaspoon of salt...?"

"Very good. You seemed _incredibly_ interested in peering through the doorway, through the living room, and into my bedroom. _Do_ ensure that you pay attention." Folding his arms, Emet-Selch closed his eyes, seeing the recipe as if it was laid out before him. "In a large bowl, sift together the granular, powdered ingredients. _Sift_. To do such a thing requires a _sifter_, which looks like a bowl made out of a metal mesh. Once you have done so, dig a pit in the center while keeping the ingredients within the bowl. Mitron, repeat the three final ingredients."

"One and a quarter cups of milk, one egg, and three tablespoons of melted butter." Came the prompt reply. The others nodded. They too remembered this thing, and at the Architect's single nod started to smile at each other. Perhaps this wouldn't be so hard.

"Very good. These ingredients go into the pit you have dug. Mix until smooth. Lohgrif, considering your affinity with fire, the temporary title of Panmaster is yours. This, is roughly what medium-high heat would be." Holding up one hand, he snapped his fingers and produced a flare of heat that rippled the air. "Note it well. You do _not_ want to exceed this. Such is generally marked six, perhaps seven at best on the dial. I _hope_ you at least know how to read Allagan."

"I'm familiar with it, Architect." 

"Better and better. There is hope for you lot yet. Use a half ilm by half ilm square of butter, let it melt and coat the pan, and then pour a quarter of a cup of batter onto the pan. It should take fifteen minutes total - seven and a half per side - before it is cooked. You would turn it over by scraping the bottom up with a spatula - the flat utensil that looks like a fork with the tines connected at the end, roughly as wide as your hand - and you would use the same tool to remove the finished product and settle it onto a plate."

"Question, if I may Emet-Selch." Elidibus tilted his head to the side as pale gold eyes narrowed and turned to settle on him. "Is it not customary to... Add things, to pancakes? Such as pieces of fruit or chocolate?"

"An intermediate technique. We shall see if any of you _last_ that long. Now then. The ingredients are in the cupboards to the left and the fridge." 

"Why do you have a fridge but no microwave?" Mitron frowned, taking stock of the counters. 

"Because 'tis not actually called a fridge in this day an age, simply a 'coldbox'. Begin."

The Ascians scattered. 

* * *

Emmerlolth and Mitron were on mixing and measuring duty. Fandainel made sure that they had the right ingredients. Lohgrif waited on standby for when his part as 'Panmaster' came into play. Halmarut and Elidibus drew lots for whomever would be the unlucky one to try the first pancake and the white-robed Ascian accepted his defeat with grace as the Weaver started to idly search the fridge and pantry for potential raw materials they would need when they inevitably began to _experiment_. 

The Emissary grabbed a chair and dragged it over to sit next to Emet-Selch, who had a mixed look of intrigue and mounting horror growing across his face. 

"I don't suppose you have any more beer, Architect." A gloved hand idly waved towards the fridge, and he nodded before getting up and opening it, helping himself. Saviour in hand, he moved back to the chair and sat down, stretching his legs out. "... They have yet to make the first one, and yet already they seem to be attempting to improve on the recipe you gave them."

"I noticed. I've yet to decide how I feel about it." Emet-Selch quirked a brow as Mitron eased over and cleared his throat. "Speak."

"Emmerlolth and I were talking. We have agreed that, if we add bacon, we can reduce the amount of salt we utilize. What is your input on this?"

The Architect stared at him for a moment, enjoying the way he started to fidget as the seconds dragged on before finally sighing. 

"Complete _one_ batch of _eight_ standard pancakes first. Once you have done this thing, _then_ you may experiment. Otherwise, the theory is sound." 

Mitron perked up, before nodding and rushing back to share the 'good' news. 

"I would ask what I had done to deserve your ire, Emet-Selch, but I have a feeling I already know." Elidibus took a sip of his beer, leaned back in his chair, and calmly accepted his fate.

"'Tis the little things in life."

* * *

Lohgrif accidentally burned the first two. But by the third one, he was proverbially cooking with fire, though flipping it utterly failed. By the fifth, he managed to turn it over without trouble and by the eighth, he felt secure enough in his abilities to bandy about the suggestion of cooking _two at a time_, each in their own pan.

They plated the seventh and eighth pancakes, collected utensils and Halmarut garnished them with the syrup that had been in the fridge. As one, the Sundered offered the plate to Elidibus, who leaned to set his beer down by the leg of the chair, straightened, and accepted the fruit of their collective labour. Balancing it on his lap, he cut into one, examined it's consistancy, sopped it through the syrup for a moment and then (with a silent prayer to Hydaelyn, because she was by all indication the _benevolent_ one of the first two primals) popped it into his mouth. 

He chewed. And chewed. And studied the pancake once more. Finally, he swallowed. Emet-Selch glanced over, curious. The Sundered leaned in as one, waiting for the Emissary's verdict. 

"... Well now. I would classify this as a success." Elidibus smiled easily, before blinking as Halmarut hummed. 

"I believe Emet-Selch should also have some. He is burdened by the truth, and an emissary's job is to deliver bad news as gently as possible."

The other dark-hooded heads nodded, and all masked faces in the room turned to the Architect, who looked at them, and then at the plate. And then back to them. 

"You can't be _serious_."

"Come now. It's just a pancake. Surely you have faith in your ability to teach them." The Emissary offered the plate out, and there was silence in the room before the Architect finally broke it with a long suffering sigh. 

He took the plate.

He chunked off a piece for himself, made a show about utterly soaking it in syrup, before lifting it for further study. It _looked_ about right. It _smelled_ about right. It wasn't burned. Theoretically, it should be fine. They stared, and he felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck, disappearing under the collar of his coat. 

Well. Nothing for it then. He popped the piece of pancake into his mouth. Analysis.

Somewhat more... Chewy, than he had expected. Very nearly overdone. But, all in all...

"Passable." He shoved the plate back into the Emissary's grasp, and the faces of the Sundered split into grins before they all turned and started congratulating each other. He snapped his fingers, garnering their attention as he pointed back to the kitchen at large. "Now. Do it _again_."

They scattered, returning excitedly to their respective duties and passing ideas around about how to make the pancakes _better_. 

Elidibus smiled at him, and the Architect folded his arms and resumed looking regal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I -loved- writing this.  
^.^


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to put notes at the beginning and the end x.x  
I just wanted to say that I'm glad everyone enjoyed Ascian Pancakes, because that turned out every inch as happy and fluffy as I'd hoped. I want to do more light stuff like that!   
Also, I'm running out of side-plots to wrap up before the party's got to get back to Eden.   
C'mon, Squeenix! I just need a hint of what the primal's going to look like!  
: (

They decided to stay there another day, because the match with Zenos wasn't for another week and a half and because she _really_ didn't want to go back and face Thancred just yet. For all that the man was like a brother to her, being family just meant that they reserved the right to steal each other's food and underwear if the need arose. Of course, it also meant that even if they hated each other and were fighting, the moment something threatened either of them the other immediately adopted the 'only I may swat the fly' mentality. There was also the matter of recovery for Emet-Selch, because after pancakes she had sundered the rest of his tempering away with a finesse that he not only remained awake for but also applauded once he had slowly uncurled from the fetal position he had collapsed into on the bed, hissing, wheezing and vibrating the air with _pain_.

What could she say, she'd come a long way since Amaurot.

And so it was that Emet-Selch and the Warrior spent a good portion of the first day recovering with pleasant conversation, light sparring and a lot of napping, curled up against one another. She had a feeling that the other Ascians were all doing something similar, or clearing out the worst of Azys Lla's previous residents that were largely experimental and extremely volatile. The fact that she had crossed the path of one of them in a housecoat with enormous fuzzy coeurl slippers and a map in the halls helped support that theory, and made her feel awkward for not having her mask on at the time with how he politely avoided looking directly at her. 

Emet-Selch had laughed and said that was Fandaniel when she mentioned it. And then promptly gone right back to using her as a footrest, to which she had rolled her eyes and obligingly massaged away. He had eventually put the book down to better enjoy it. She had learned early on that he really _did_ like being pampered, and had the most wonderful heavy-lidded expression of dozing bliss when she did. 

It's during one of these moments that she springs a question she had been saving, completely out of the blue. 

"Can you play the harpsichord?"

The look he gives her is at once withering and _offended_.

"-Please-, the _harpsichord_?"

"What. You've got the fingers for it." She beamed at him, and he rolled his eyes before slipping his feet from her lap and pushing himself up from the couch. He picked a piece of furniture seemingly at random before snapping his fingers. The plush armchair in the corner vanished, fragmented and reformed in a swirl of aether into a sleek black instrument that looked, to her, like a large harpsichord. Disappearing into the kitchen, he returned with a chair and set it down in front of the keys, before propping the lid open. 

"_This_, you ungrateful little _wretch_, is called a piano. Harpsichord is plucked strings, piano is _struck_. A broader range of notes, an entirely superior tone, and the ability to soften the notes or increase their intensity and volume as needed. You also do not need to _tune_ a piano anywhere near as frequently as a harpsichord." A snap of his fingers had the chair blurring and reconfiguring into a bench before he swept over to it and tucked his hands under the edges of his coat, flicking the tail of it over the bench theatrically before settling down. "Come. Sit." 

She blinked, hesitated, and then moved to sit down next to him on the bench. "Won't I be in the way?"

"-Please-, unless you decide to press the keys with your _face_ I should have little to no trouble reaching around you. Pick a theme." He stretched his arms, slowly flexing his fingers and studying his own craftsmanship. When she was silent for a moment, he side-eyed her and frowned at the thoughtful look on her face. 

"I... I dunno, honestly. I'm an uncultured heathen." She cracked a smile, before very deliberately sitting on her hands to stifle the temptation to poke the keys. "You pick something. When did you start playing?" 

"Amaurot. You couldn't hold a tune in a _bucket_ if someone _handed_ it to you at that time, but that never stopped you from trying. Building one was a pet project of mine, simply to discern if I could figure out how to do so without looking at any blueprints. It took me three tries, but I managed afterwards, and you insisted that I keep it and practice." 

"I still can't." She grinned at him, before watching as he reached for the keys and idly slid his gloved fingers over them. Her grin faltered for a moment, and she glanced at him to study his face. "... What's wrong."

"... The last time I played the piano, you were seven months gravid with our son. After... Well, _after_, I simply could not play." Slowly pulling his hand away from the keys, he frowned at them before she shifted one hand around his waist. 

"That's normal, y'know. Part of grieving. Sometimes, you just sit there and _stare_ at this thing you used t'be able to do, but suddenly just... Can't. Like losing your appetite mid-bite, all that's got to do with it just goes away and you're left there, staring. Numb." The Warrior leaned against his side, and he tucked an arm around her shoulders. They sat like that for several long minutes, before he seemed to shake himself and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

The melody he picked out started simple enough. An ascending third, slow and quiet that was then repeated twice more before the last note was staggered a half step before he reversed the order and started over with both hands on the keys. It wasn't anything specific, he was simply playing a little bit, touching the keys for the sake of touching them, familiarizing himself with the notes and the stretch of the muscles in his fingers as they moved. Before long, he was picking out fragments of songs, before he picked one and stuck with it. 

It was a mournful tune, and he glanced at her when she gained a thoughtful look and held up both hands. Watching his hands, comparing them to her own, she shifted forward just a little bit, and then set her hands to the keys to start picking out counterpoints. Nothing like an actual harmony, just a few notes here and there, and he remembered...

They used to play together. Not _properly_, usually she would lounge on the closed lid and just poke at the keys to see how he could incorporate them into whatever he was playing at the time. That she should choose to do so meant that maybe, just maybe... 

Maybe it tickled some part of her soul, like a half-formed memory. 

Quietly, she started to hum, and he adjusted accordingly, following the pattern, recognizing it. He remembered dancing bears, with their painted wings. He remembered holding her, safe and warm as they stood at a balcony in Garlemald, shadowed and watching the silver storm of glitter that curled and coiled through the air as people threw handfuls of the stuff down onto the dancers below. He had taught her to dance to the tune, how to swirl and step as gracefully as any noble-bred lady. 

But that was far away, and long ago. Something her heart used to know. Something he yearned, to help her _remember_. 

But the song came to an end, as all things must. He gave her a sad smile as she blinked up at him, before picking up a more lively tune that she _must_ have recognized from one bar or another considering the way her face lit up. Her good humour was infectious, and he found himself playing for two bells before calling it quits.

His fingers were sore, and the bench hurt his rump. He'd neglected to build it with a cushion. A minor oversight on his part, but something he would rectify for next time. Besides, it was _her turn_. He stood up, grabbed a few books off one of the shelves, and after a moment he was holding a lute out to her. 

She grimaced, but took it anyways. 

* * *

She'd had an idea at some point in the night. She had sat up, rasped out his name and then whumped the vessel beside her in the stomach. He had grunted in response, thickly muttering an inquisitive sound. 

"_Eden_. -Eden-, Hades. R'mind me 'Eden' in th'mrnin." 

He blinked groggily at her, and continued to do so as she flopped back down and went right back to sleep, leaving him with far too many questions. What about Eden? Remind her that they were going _back_ to Eden? Did she want to avoid it, because of Thancred? Were they going to sneak in, make a new titan and slay it themselves?_What was so important about it that it woke her from a dead sleep to entrust him with a single word, only for her to pass right back out?_

The gears in his mind were turning. He'd _never_ get back to sleep now. 

Huffing, he transferred his consciousness over to the vessel on the couch and sighed. Picking up his book, he found where he had left off and tried to get some reading done. 

He didn't get much done. His thoughts kept turning back to the intensity in her stare. A brief check of the clock on the wall had him gauging when it might be 'safe' to wake her up, and he instead pushed himself up from the couch and went to go and bother Elidibus.

After she had slept for roughly six hours, as a sort of revenge for waking him up, he trucked the Ascians all into his rooms and very, very carefully eased them all half-way across the living room before telling them to wait, to watch, and to listen. They all stretched out their aetherical senses, and he lifted one foot and took a soft, nigh silent step forward. 

Her aether _twitched_ as he moved within thirty fulms of her, so he went utterly still, smothered his aetheric presence, and waited longer than he possibly should have to take another slow, cautious, careful step. The cycle repeated itself, one step, one twitch, one held breath and so on and so forth until he had eased himself beside the bed. A brief division of his focus and the vessel next to her slowly opened his eyes. They both waited patiently as she shifted slightly, and then settled back into blissful oblivion. 

He _knew_ one of them was going to get punched. But, if such was the price of startling her, then so be it. One vessel leaned in, both drew a deep breath, and then both utterly _shrieked_ into her ears. 

She hit consciousness with the force of a slap, aether surging and he watched the muscles of her arm subtly _bulge_. The Vessel that had been laying next to her found himself flying as she muckled onto the front of his shirt with a bellow and popped up, hauling him bodily into the other one and sending them both into a heap on the ground. One grunted with the impact the other laughed as she stared at him, chest heaving and _murder_ written on her face. 

"I'MA MILL YER FACE YA FUCKIN' SHOEBILL!"

The bottom vessel wheezed laughter as the top one sorted himself out and pushed himself up, only to reach down and help the first one to his feet. The first one circled around the bed, keeping a distance as she sullenly settled and scrubbed at her face even as the other turned towards the living room and waved. 

"We're all waiting for you, little Monster. Meeting and all that."

"... Whu?" 

"Eden. You bid me to remind you of 'Eden'." 

"... I don' remember that." 

"_Probably_ why you woke me up at two in the morning to ask me to remind you of such." Sweeping out of the room, Emet-Selch threw himself down onto the couch and the rest of the Ascians paired off to murmur about what he had shown them. Thirty fulms, give or take. Did you see the way her aether flickered? So _strange__!_

"Look, we're gunna have to start talking about these rooms full of Ascians I keep waking up to. I'm not an _exhibit_ to gawk at." She came out, belts in one hand boots in the other, coat idly draped in the crook of her elbow as she gave everyone a narrow-eyed, mild glare. Finding the piano bench, she plopped down and finished getting dressed as the Architect paused and considered her words. 

She never seemed to mind him or the Exarch constantly watching her. He would have thought she would have been used to it by now. Then again, even as Persephone she had been incredibly selective when it came to who she interacted with and who she became friends with. Elidibus came to his rescue with a quiet clearing of his throat. 

"Forgive us, Emet-Selch told us that you had something incredibly important to go over with us. It was not our intention to scrutinize you so intently and cause you undue discomfort." The white-robes Ascian offered her a slight, polite bow and a soft smile, and she snorted at him. 

"Don't you bail him out've this. He could've at least prepared a bribe or something, but no. Instead he's _lounging on the couch_." 

"Ah, but he did." The Emissary stalled, dipping into another slight, polite bow as he folded his hands in his sleeves. He remembered the basket of alcohol in Revenant's Toll, and also the conversation yesterday about peace offerings. Subtly, he wove his aether and straightened. "He has spoken of what you prefer as peace offerings, and largely left it to us to determine what might be acceptable for the situation."

Pulling his hand from his sleeve, he withdrew a bottle of brandy and crossed the room, offering it out. Her eyes, steel surrounding crystalline blue, flicked from him, to it, to the utterly innocent Ascian on the couch. 

"... That true, Architect?" 

"Naturally." came the blithe reply from the couch.

"You wouldn't be twisting the truth by avoiding any mention of _when_ these conversations took place, now would you." The Warrior reached out to accept the bottle, hefting it a few times.

"Why, whatever would make you _think_ such of me? I am _offended_."

"Unfortunately, it may not quite be up to your standards, but we lack access to the proper facilities and resources to compensate otherwise." Elidibus offered her a third subtle, polite bow, and backed away. "Does the thought put into it count as enough of a bribe, Eschaton?"

"Considering I'm _convinced_ you lot came up with this on the spot... Eh, watching you scramble'll have to do." She worked the cork out of the bottle, sniffed it, frowned, and then took a sip. "... Yeah, this is _shit_. But kudos for trying. Emet-Selch! Fix it!"

"'Tis a created good, not a natural one. Very little I can do to improve the taste. Halmarut, go and get one of the beers from the fridge." The Architect waved a hand idly as he sat up, and the Weaver bowed slightly before making his way to the kitchen. "Come here, little Monster."

She grumped, but took another swig of the created brandy and thumped over. Emet-Selch scooted back on the couch, pulling her around to sit on the edge in front of him between his knees and started to massage her shoulders. The Warrior grumbled under her breath, but tipped her head forward and slowly started to relax. The beer that he turned into brandy helped, and she let her eyes close as she held a bottle in each hand. 

"Now then. Eden?"

"Y'know, I don't rightly remember. Give me a few minutes." The Warrior sipped from first one bottle, then the other as five black hooded figures shared glances with each other and one white hooded one folded his hands politely behind his back. "... Look, it's hard enough for me to think at any given time, could you all, I dunno. Do something other than stare at me? I just woke up and you're makin' me _nervous_. Sorta got put on the spot here."

They all took a step back, except for Elidibus who tilted his head slightly to the side and thought about it for a moment before looking at the other black hooded Ascians and gesturing for them to follow him into the kitchen. They did, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. 

"... Asshole."

"Not asshat?" He quirked a brow, leaning forward to press his lips against the back of her neck. "I suppose I _did_ go overboard."

"You _suppose?_ One or the other'd been fine, but together, yeah, too much. You put me in a bad mood and then made me deal with _people_ before I'd defused. Seven hells, my ears are still ringing. What'd you do, put your balls in a vice to hit that pitch?"

He huffed a sound of amusement, already seeing the way her soul was less defensively compact than it had been a few minutes ago. "I will have you know, I have an _incredible_ vocal range when I've a mind for it." 

"I've caught the edges of that. You've got just the _loveliest_ bitten back groans." The Warrior's lips curled into a slight smirk, before glancing towards the kitchen. "... Great. Now I'm horny. Good news though, I remember about Eden."

"Hold that thought then. Elidibus! 'Tis safe enough to return." The Architect nuzzled the crook of her neck, nosing just under her ear and she turned her face to side-eye him as best she could, eyes narrowing. He gave her a playful look in return, enjoying the way her cheeks were starting to pink. 

"Y'know, I dunno whether I want you to behave or not."

He smirked at that, and kept his hands in appropriate places as he threaded his arms around her waist. 

"I hope we're not interrupting." Elidibus tilted his head to the side, and the Warrior shrugged. 

"I'm not _shy_. We're both fully clothed. It's you lot that are gunna get uncomfortable, and me that's gunna get rewarded for my patience after this. I'm considering it my revenge. You lot want to stare? Then fine. Gawk away." She grinned as several hooded figures shifted slightly, already internally cringing before she lifted a bottle to her lips and took a sip. "Right. Eden. Show of hands, how many of you know about it?"

They all raised their hands, lowering them as she nodded. 

"Good. Makes this easier. We already know that Eden can take the aether in a star and turn it into light-based, right? And that it can, if used properly, do the reverse? While the Thirteenth shard might be completely fucked up, we might be able to use Eden to take all that void and turn it into something Hydaelyn can use." She leaned back against the Architect, head tilting to the side as he nosed along her neck.

"An interesting idea, however it won't work. Eden is light-aspected, through and through." Elidibus clasped his hands behind his back, affecting to look unphased as the Sundered by and large refused to look at her save for Mitron, who stared as if he couldn't look away. "Void, the advanced state of darkness, is diametrically opposed to light. Should Eden make the attempt, it would be destroyed."

"Yeah, but what's stopping you from changing that?" She blinked at them, before quirking a brow. "You're _Ascians_. The only thing I can think of as to why you didn't think of it yet was that Zodiark was saving it for a _snack_."

The Emissary paused, frowning as he thought about it. "It... Is not impossible that such was the case. We have long since written off the Thirteenth as a useless void. A mistake. Something to be ignored and overlooked. I wonder now what else may have been influenced."

"Well look into it. We need Eden for the time being to finish fixing the First, and-"

Emet-Selch made a quiet, surprised noise into her shoulder and lifted his head. "Organic aether accelerators. While they are but a basic form of such, and decidedly _not_ miniaturized, such was part of the promoted growth and mutation when the girl succumbed."

"These could offset the cost, with careful application." Halmarut frowned, stroking his beard as Mitron gasped and perked up. 

"Elidibus, your primary element has always been darkness. How many layers of conversion would it have to go through before it no longer was in danger of harming Eden?"

"Minimum two. The conversion rates are horrible, however outfitted with accelerators as Eden is it's possible. Plausible, even, to increase the yield should we attempt to convert it into non-aspected and restore it to a level equal in value to half the draw. We would need to refine the technique, of course, and determine what manner of aether Hydaelyn is capable of utilizing as fuel. The less we have to convert it the greater the gain-" The Emissary paused, glancing to where the Warrior was staring blankly at all of them. "... Would you happen to remember what aspect of aether She might be able to draw upon?'

"Look, I don't even know if She'd eat it. She's the opposite of Zodiark, and a big part of the reason why She was His enemy is 'cause He was gunna just keep devouring things until there was nothing left. I might be able to talk to her, but that's... Yeah. The only times I've ever been able to are when she's called me there or on accident. Last time I'd actually died and she fished me out've the Lifestream." The Warrior wiggled her nose, grimacing. 

"Then it is settled then. We require more information." Elidibus nodded slowly. "I will go before her, and ask."

"Elidibus, that would kill you outright at worst, cripple you at best." The Architect narrowed his eyes, lips pulling into a frown. "I understand you are the Emissary, but she floats within a sea of light-aspected aether centered within the ring of Shards. Very likely to protect herself from our kind, and from other void-based minions."

"You sound as if you have made the trip yourself." The white-robed Ascian smiled slightly at Emet-Selch as he huffed. 

"I -did-. It was incredibly _uncomfortable_, to say the least, and cost me more than I care to admit to the loss of." His words were met with a shake of the Emissary's head. 

"It must be done. I may be diametrically opposed, however... Eschaton put her existence on the line to try and set things right. To give all of life a fighting chance. I can't fight like you can, as my strengths and talents lie elsewhere-"

"Alright, time out, hold up." The Warrior lifted both bottles, squinting. "Pit stop. It's been said in passing a few times. Now, on the first, people were turning into sin eaters because their aether was going light-based, but you guys are talking about your own aether being void based. Wouldn't you guys turn into, I dunno, just voidspawn or something if that was the case?" 

"An affinity and an overwhelming abundance are two very different things, little Monster." Emet-Selch pressed his lips against the side of her neck, trying to consider the best way to explain it. "To call us voidspawn, after being tempered and suffused with Zodiark's aether would not be too great of a stretch of the term. Lacking his tempering, however, we are far less inclined towards murdering everything and rather more determined to do what we can, regardless of the lingering alterations and adaptations. Elidibus has always held an affinity for darkness-based magic, for example."

"And you?" She tilted her head, lifting the bottle and taking a sip as she addressed the Ascian that was hugging her. The others shared a glance, and looked away. 

"... Death, little Monster. A subset of non-elemental." 

"Explains a bit, actually. And what about all've you?" She nodded towards the black robed Ascians, and Halmarut cleared his throat quietly. 

"Straight aether. Non-elemental aspected, by and large, but easy to mix with others." 

"Fire." Lohgrif cupped his hands, a flickering flame manifesting, before it vanished. He glanced to Emmerololth next to him.

"Water, here. Mitron?"

"Wind." He grinned, curling a hand and starting to float upwards as the hem of his robes rippled. Pashtarot reached out to flick him on the shoulder, and he went careening into the ceiling with a thud. 

"Gravity. Another subset of non-elemental aspected."

"So that leaves... Fandaniel, right?" The Warrior squinted at him, and he shifted slightly where he stood, Mitron drifting down behind him and rubbing his head. 

"... Earth." 

"Alright. So these were all affinities. And that's completely separate from aspected, 'cause that's just what came naturally to you?" She didn't wait for an answer, taking a sip and nodding slowly. "And now you're all, uhhh, what's the word for when there's a lot of, let's say water in a sponge?"

"Inundated?" Emmerololth frowned faintly. 

"Saturated." Emet-Selch smiled thinly, resting his chin on the Warrior's shoulder. "Saturated with void-aspected aether, which is an advanced form of darkness just as holy is an advanced form of light. A subset, if you will, similar to gravity versus non-elemental aspected."

"Right. But you all retained yourselves more or less because of the tempering helping you cope with it. So... Are all've you gunna be alright, or do I suddenly have a bunch of ancient immortal beings that I gotta worry about going crazy now." 

"We should be, by and large, fine. However, I believe I speak for us all when I say that your concern is touching." The Emissary smiled slightly, clasping his hands behind his back once more. "We have long since adapted and become accustomed to the void-aspected aether. We may, with enough time, shed it and get it out of our systems for the most part, but we would need to survive so long to do so. With the current timeline, we have more pressing matters to attend to. To which, I believe that we should return to Eden to study it further while I make my journey."

"Elidibus-"

"Trust me, Emet-Selch. Allow me this opportunity." He bowed slightly, and the Architect let out a long suffering sigh. 

"At _least_ let me give you one of my portable barriers. It should serve to take the edge off."

The Emissary inclined his head, and let his smile widen slightly.

* * *

They were largely packed and ready to go. Emet-Selch did _not_ pace restlessly as everyone gathered once more in his living room, minus one Elidibus. Instead, he made sure to put back any books that had been taken from the shelves. 

"Right. Well, I'm good to go." The Warrior finished adjusting one of her belts before rolling her eyes and ambling over to Halmarut. "Hey, you can take us all to Eden, right?"

The Weaver nodded.

"Good. Architect." She turned and quirked a brow as he glanced back at her, sullen. "Go after him."

"... Beg pardon?"

"Go after him. Elidibus. You're going to be distracted if you don't, and there's five of them here with me. What's the worst that could happen, Thancred? Urianger'll be there too." She smiled at him, before crossing the distance and reaching up to tug him down by the collar, trying to steal a kiss. 

"But what about-" She hushed him with another kiss, and he frowned as he straightened slightly. "... Are you _certain_, little Monster?"

"I'll be fine without you for a few hours, y'know. Much as I'll miss having you at my back. We've got unfinished business though, so make sure you hurry back." The Warrior grinned up at him, and he felt a smirk tug at his lips. 

"Very well then. 'Tis rude to keep a lady waiting, so I shall endeavor to travel as swiftly as I can. Should you need me..." He reached to idly cup his hand around the chunk of crystal bound against her forearm, and she nodded. 

"I'll let you know, first thing. Halmarut!" She flashed him a grin, before turning and making her way back to the batch of black robed individuals. The Weaver inclined his head and focused, raising a hand and gesturing slowly through the air to pull the ripple of a void rift around them. 

Hades watched as she turned and gave him one last parting look before disappearing, and sighed to himself before shaking his head. She'd only just left, and already he missed her.

Enough of that, he chided himself. He had a job to do.


	53. Chapter 53

He caught up with Elidibus largely because he knew what he was getting into, girded himself properly and knew what he was looking for. It wasn't as if it was _difficult_ to spot the serpentine mass of darkness that swam through the sea of light that was almost sixty fulms long. Already Elidibus looked ragged, and he wasn't even half way there. There was a protective shimmer along his scales, however, and he twisted and slowed as the Architect continued towards him. 

**<<Doing about as well as I had expected.>>**

_ **<<Believe you me, I have already made it farther than I could have** ** hoped.>>** _

Emet-Selch would have huffed if his form had possessed lungs. Instead, he reached out and snagged Elidibus by the tail and pulled him into the shelter of his wings and arms. It seemed to help somewhat, and Hades continued forward while the Emissary recovered. At length, the scaled snout poked up to peer over the Architect's shoulder and survey their surroundings. 

** _<<You seem to have a tolerance for this manner of climate.>>_ **

**<<-Please-, my Beloved is not called the 'Warrior of Light' simply because of her sunny disposition. I have endured what I must. 'Tis simply a side effect of a higher threshold for pain.>>**

Elidibus hissed out a laugh at that, but otherwise coiled as tight as he could on himself as they traveled. Emet-Selch didn't want to consider how much worse it must have been for the Emissary, with how the edges of his scales were starting to turn grey and dull. Instead, he focused on keeping his own essence as tightly warded against the ambient light aether, and before long he could see the Mothercrystal where she drifted. 

_<<You are unwelcome here.>>_

**<<I seem to be unwelcome largely everywhere save for within the circle of my little Monster's arms. I come with a purpose largely benign, however.>>** _  
_

The emissary poked his head out from the wings that enfolded him, eyes largely closed against what was, for him, an almost blinding glare. He tipped his head politely, scales starting to inadvertently curl. 

** _<<Mothercrystal Hydaelyn. My time here is limited, but I would very much like to speak with you._ ** _ **>>** _

_<<You are Elidibus of the Forked Tongue. The Snake. The Emissary. Yet... You no longer speak for Zodiark. You have been cleansed, touched by my Blessing, but do not retain it.>>_

** _<<No, I do not. The Warrior of Light saw fit to save my life. The Ascians no longer serve the Devourer. She freed us, one and all. It is for this reason that I have come before you, although it pains me to do so.>>_ **

Elidibus bowed his head politely, before lifting his muzzle and studying her for a moment. 

** _<<We know, that you are fading. We would offer a way to sustain you, if you were willing. Emet-Selch created a being known as 'Eden', which may convert one elemental aspect of aether into another. The Thirteenth Shard cannot be rejoined, and has been cut from the cycle of the Lifestream. We offer this method to allow you to recover the Thirteenth Shard, to prevent Zodiark from devouring it in the far future, once your Blessed Child sunders the souls of those whom sacrificed themselves and yet dwell within that piece of him free. Doing thus will, regrettably, strengthen the portion of him that is bound to the moon of the Source, however lacking the sundered souls such will only be by the barest of margins.>>_ **

_<<She spoke to me, of her plans thus.>>_

Hydaelyn lapsed silent, rotating in the air before them. 

**<<You would be able to reintroduce the souls within the Thirteenth Shard to the Lifestream, purified, and also sustain yourself. Are you not also a life worth saving? You are not Zodiark, to feast and devour and gorge yourself. You are the Mothercrystal, creation of my Beloved Eschaton. Your time has not yet come, and 'tis silly to starve yourself when all it will do is weaken you. She did not give up so easily, why must you?>>**

Emet-Selch grunted slightly as the end of the Emissary's tail whumped him subtly in the mask. 

_<<I am a creation of the Eschaton, in this you are correct. I inherited her legacy, her will, and returned her to the world to continue the purpose she chose for herself. However, all things must come to an End.>>_

_ **<<In this, we agree, however is not your purpose also to keep Zodiark in check? So long as He remains, so too must you, to maintain the balance. You will need your strength, should He begin to break free.>> ** _

The Mothercrystal continued to almost idly spin, and together the two Unsundered waited for her response.

* * *

The Architect carried Elidibus all the way back, ensured he was settled properly back into his vessel, and then went to go and get his own. By the time he had hustled back to the Emissary's rooms the white-robed Ascian had already tried to get up and faltered, catching himself on the edge of a table as he sucked in ragged breaths. Emet-Selch hurried over, looping one of his arms around his shoulders and helping him over to the bed. 

"You could have picked a better place to leave yourself."

"I... I had thought... The chair would be... Would be fine..." 

Tutting, Emet-Selch eased the other onto the bed, getting him settled and fluffing a pillow before tucking it behind the Emissary's head. "I was right to worry. You've yet to recover from when we put you back together. I have half a mind to go and fetch Igeyorhm, chocobo reincarnation or not."

"Birds are the enemy of the snake." The words were rasped out with a tired smile, and Elidibus let his eyes close as he tried to relax. "... I will recover, given time and rest. Protected by this mortal shell, I may even... I may even do so quickly." 

"Not quickly enough. Do recall, years in the eyes of my little Monster does not qualify as 'quickly'." Critically, the Architect studied the burned, raw aether before him and grimaced. "You... are an utter _mess_ right now." 

"I suppose I am. I have done what I must, however. This pain is a small price to pay for an attempt to right the wrongs of the past. Will you ask the others to pick an order and rotate among themselves the task of staying with me?" 

"-Please-, you need to ask?"

* * *

The Warrior stood firm, arms folded as five Ascians tried to hide behind her despite the fact that all of them had anywhere from a few inches to a full fulm on her in terms of height. Halmarut, who was already familiar with the Scions, had already moved over to the campfire to appraise Urianger of the situation. Ryne looked between Thancred and the Warrior, one hand lifted and clutched close to her chest. 

The silence was broken only by the quiet discussion in the background, and the former Oracle shifted nervously from foot to foot. For all that nothing was actually being said between the gunblade and the rogue, a lot of _intent_ was being bandied back and forth. She opened her mouth to say something, before Thancred's scowl deepened and he stepped forward. 

"Which of you tried to kidnap Ryne, then." 

They flinched as one, and the Warrior partially turned to address the crowd behind her. 

"Answer him."

Mitron made himself very, very small before cautiously, hesitantly stepping forward. 

"... Me." 

The gunblade stepped over, collected Ryne by the shoulders and then steered her towards the flinching Ascian. 

"Apologize to her. _Now_." Came Thancred's demand. 

"... I'm... I'm sorry, that... I tried to kidnap you, so that Elidibus could... Use you as Leverage..."

"Um... It... It didn't work, so... I forgive you." She managed a hopeful smile, and Mitron's teal eyes lifted from the ground to search her face for a moment before dropping back down. 

"... Thank's..."

"Now that that's out've the way, let's all've us head to Eden. We've hopefully got plans for it, and they're going to need to figure out how most've it works. Everyone! This is Thancred. You might be passingly familiar with him. Over there, talking to Halmarut, is Urianger. Carrot-top is Ryne. Ryne, 'Cred, these are Mitron, Emmerololth, Pashtarot, Fandaniel and, uhh... Lohgrif." She snapped her fingers, pointing at that last one. "I'm shit with names, sorry, almost forgot yours. That's Eden over there, I'm sure all of you can get yourselves over there no problem. Mitron, you stay here with me for a sec, alright?" 

Four black hoods nodded, before Halmarut rejoined them and led them to the aetherite. Mitron swallowed quietly, shoulders hunched. 

"I'm a firm believer in paying penance where it's due. You _did_ done goof. So you get to stay with Thancred and Ryne, and wherever she asks you to portal them to, you do it. For a week. So long as it's on the First." She gave Mitron a _look_ and he hurriedly nodded and moved to stand beside the former Oracle. "Good. Any problems with this, Thancred?"

"I don't trust him not to drop us in the middle of an active volcano." The gunblade stared at the Ascian, who was still trying to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible. "However, the thought of having one of them as a personal teleporter certainly will make getting around easier."

"Just be careful, alright? Teleporting takes a bit of effort. Now then, I'm gunna head to Eden with Urianger, 'cause I get the feeling he's looking forward to being a giant brainiac and is going to go nuts when he hears them really start to get going. I don't understand much of this aetheric stuff but it's right up his alley." She stepped up and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're free to come along. Or not. I'm not your boss. But I will say that I hear that Eulmore is starting to pick up and that Alphinaud hasn't been appraised of everything going on. Nor've any of the others beyond what you've shared with them."

He nodded, looking thoughtful as she waved and made her way to the aetherite where Urianger was waiting for her, arms wrapped around a box of unidentifiable devices and looking hopeful. 

"Mitron, was it."

The Ascian cleared his throat. "Y-Yes, Sir."

"Do you know where Eulmore is?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Would you like to go to Eulmore, Ryne?"

She nodded, perking up. 

"Then to Eulmore it is. And if you drop us anywhere else, Mitron, I'm going to introduce you to the time-honoured art of Ascian-slaying."

Those teal eyes widened, and he swallowed loudly.

* * *

"Well now, 'tis about the scene I expected." Emet-Selch stepped out of the void rift that had appeared just behind the Warrior. She perked up, spun and lunged to wrap her arms around him. "Oof. Missed me, did you?"

"Hard to make fun've you when all the satisfaction that I get out've it is from seeing the look on your face and you're not here." She snickered, before nodding towards where each Ascian within Eden's core were comparing notes. They seemed to be taking turns, one person would write in Urianger's notebook and the others would scatter, gather information and then return to compile it. Urianger had drawn Pashtarot aside to speak on the differences between their abilities when it came to his singular gravity spell and the Ascian's greater ability to manipulate such. "They lost me within a few minutes without you to translate for me. They've started talking in Amaurotine, too." 

"Hmm. Well, you're about to be short one of them. Elidibus is in _terrible_ condition." The Architect started towards the current cluster of three, and she trailed along behind him.

"They're gunna take turns taking care of him, then?"

"'Tis the idea. Emmerololth!" Snapping his fingers, Emet-Selch drew their attention, and the female of the trio blinked and pointed to herself. "Yes, you. Return to Azys Lla. Elidibus has made a _mess_ of himself. You will swap with the others as the need arises."

"Of course, Architect." She bowed slightly, politely, before turning and vanishing through a rift. 

"Now then." Hades spun on his heel, snatching the Warrior's hands and swinging them about for a few steps, only to waltz them through another rift and into an alleyway in his recreation of Amaurot before pressing her back against a wall and ducking his head to nip at the side of her neck. "... Still in the mood, I would hope."

She laughed easily and stepped forward, hands settling on his hips as she spun them to put his back to the wall where hers had been. Leaning up onto the tips of her toes, she tugged on the collar of his coat and he hunched to meet her part way as she claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss. 

* * *

Malms away, in Eulmore, Mitron blinked and glanced off towards the water, falling behind a few paces. He could have _sworn_ he had just felt Emet-Selch's aether flare, why would...

Eschaton? What was-

Oh.

_Ooohhh_.

__He really wished they wouldn't project quite so strongly. Cheeks pinking, he turned and hurried to catch up.


	54. Bythos

She was, in a word, _beautiful._

The first time he had seen her had been at the gathering where the Eschaton had announced his pending resignation. Young, sure, but talented. Nobody had noticed her until she had stepped out and revealed herself. It seemed somewhat similar to his own refraction technique. A few weeks the ceremony, he went to the Eschaton and asked after her. 

He was _useless_, as usual, simply shrugging and looking around puzzled as if her disappearance had surprised him. 

And so, he had taken to searching for her. He had thought he had found her, but it turned out to be Emet-Selch's student and his friend standing on the muddy bank of a pond. They bowed politely to him, and he waved them off even as he continued on. 

He finally found her just outside of the Agricultural District, and he called out to her. She paused, before turning to look at him, and eased into a polite bow. He was surprised to find mud smeared across the side of her face and mask. It coated her robes from the knees and elbows down. 

"Goodness, what happened to you?" A frown creased his features as he neared her, reaching out to stat brushing away the drying mess. "If someone is bothering you, Miss, please. Let me know. You're Eschaton's replacement, aren't you?"

"... Something like that." She seemed quiet, cautious, and as he finished brushing a patch off she cleared her throat. "I... I'm really sorry, Sir, but I've got to get back before I'm late."

Stars, but she had a _gorgeous_ soul. A beautiful blended mix of cobalt, ultramarine, sapphire and silver. "Oh. Of course. I noted your ability to hide, and I wanted to speak with you on it. Meet me in my office tomorrow after sixth bell. Make sure that you're not late."

"I, uhh-"

"Go now, run along. It's Eschaton that's waiting for you, isn't it?" He smiled at her, and she managed one back before easing into a slight bow and turning to make her way through the gates. She paused, glancing back at him, and he waved amiably. She hesitantly returned it before continuing on her way.

* * *

She showed up. On time, too. He was overjoyed, and made sure to have snacks on hand. After a moment, upon realizing how stuffy it was, he opened the window to let in the breeze.

"Ahh! Miss, so good of you to make it. What's your name, by the way?" He looked at her expectantly as she closed the door behind her. "If we are to work together in the future, it's important for us to be comfortable with one another." 

"Percy." She flashed him a smile, and ambled over to sit down in one of the chairs as he sat down in his office chair."What's yours? If I can ask, Sir." 

"Bythos." He gave her a smile in return, pleased at the trade and nudged the plate towards her. "Now then, you managed to give some of us quite a start at the ceremony a few weeks ago. How did you do it?"

"Not entirely certain, Sir. I just stood by in the shadow of Eschaton's chair." She picked up a cookie, and nibbled on it for a moment before setting it down. 

"It seems similar to my own ability to refract light. Here, let me show you." He narrowed his eyes in focus before rippling and vanishing, the image of him scattering. 

"That's... Actually kind of impressive, Sir." 

"Please, just Bythos in private like this." Releasing his focus, he leaned his elbows onto the table. "Your turn. Show me, how do you disappear?" 

She peered at him, before shrugging. Aether shifting, she waved goodbye to him and then abruptly vanished. There wasn't any trace of her left behind. It was as if she hadn't existed in the first place. Smiling, he looked around. 

"Well now! Well done."

He waited a moment, smile faltering. 

"... Percy, you can stop now."

The seconds ticked by, and his strained smile turned into a frown. 

"... Percy...?"

* * *

He caught her in the aquarium a few weeks after that, and clamped his hand around her forearm so that he could drag her to a somewhat secluded part. 

"You are in _so much trouble_, little girl." 

"Ow. Ow ow ow." She wrenched her arm free, brows furrowing. "That's not fair, you asked me to show you how I disappear! So I did. I disappeared. It's not _my_ fault you weren't specific." 

"I wanted to compare notes and techniques with you! And you just... You _left__!_ I took precious time out of my busy schedule to grant you that audience, and you _ditched_ me." He was angry and shouting, and she hunched slightly even as she rubbed at her forearm. "You have to make this up to me! And I know just how you're going to do it, too. You're going to join me for dinner. Tonight." 

"The _fuck_ I will." 

Her words caught him offguard, and he stared at her as she drew herself up. 

"Look, Bythos, I admit it was a shitty thing for me to do, just up and leaving. And I feel kind of bad about that, sure. But I will _not_ join you for anything so long as you keep acting like a massive pimple on a donkey's dingaling." He opened his mouth to speak but she forged onward. "I don't _care_ if you're a convocation member. I'm _not_ going to dinner with you. I barely know you from a hole in the ground. Good _day_ to you, Sir."

She turned and left, sweeping out to leave him standing there, jaw hanging open.

She was certainly _strong willed_. He slowly exited the aquarium, feeling as if he had been slapped and making his way through the city to his apartment. 

He slept fitfully that night, and every other night for a very long time after that, caught up in dreams of _her_. 

* * *

He stepped much more gently around her from that point onward. Still, Eschaton needed some help with some things and it was his job to assist, so they interacted quite a few times in passing. Polite nods, careful, idle conversation, and after a decade he felt it was safe to give her a gift. 

It was a concept that had caused trouble in the past, a variation of the Kelpie. Instead of hind legs, it had the body of the fish. He went to Eschaton for advice, and she was there in the office when he arrived. 

"With a finned tail taking the place of the hind legs, it will be able to better navigate the depths of the ocean. The problem is that, unlike the seahorse, the hooves of the young may cause damage to each other." He _wasn't_ going to look at her. He was going to focus on Eschaton. He was-

"Percy, dear girl, what would you do in this situation?" 

"Eh?" She perked up, before coming over to inspect the paperwork on the table. "Live-births. Adjust their rate of growth to better match that of a horse. Of course, you'll have to extend the scaled sections across the torso, neck and limbs to ensure they have the defense required to protect themselves if their rate of birth goes down, but a minor tweak there and the ability to live an extra two decades should balance out their population."

"... You know a thing or two about horses, then?" He studied her, and she shrugged. 

"They're majestic creatures, Sir. They mean freedom and power, until you break them for riding and manual labour."

"I agree. I actually have a concept I would like you to look over, Miss. If, of course, you would be willing to do so?"

She studied him, before tilting her head to the side. "If you have it sent to me, I can look it over. I'm usually pretty busy with my training though, so I can't guarantee any timeline."

"That's alright." He smiled. It was a good smile, easy and light. "It's not anything pressing. Look it over whenever you have the time. I'll wait."

* * *

She liked _birds_. She must have, considering the concepts she had brought forth were all related to them in some manner. Like the Shoebill. Like the Amauro. He was particularly fond of that one. It had a _lovely_ facial structure. He wanted to surprise her, so he asked if she might be willing to come by the public stables in the Agricultural District to double check his work in the next month or so. 

Two months, she had responded, and he had agreed. 

He was only mildly irritated to see she had friends with her when she arrived on the appointed day, Still, he greeted everyone properly, politely, and went to the stable to go and fetch his creation. 

Solid, matte black. Equine strength and freedom. And there, incorporated with proper, working flight muscles (painstakingly constructed, because those were a pain in the _behind_) a pair of black feathered wings. He walked the beast out in front of her, and turned to lift his chin. 

"I'm having trouble with it's ability to fly. What is your advice?"

"Well, I mean you haven't given him a way to steer in the air. Two, I think you should alter the colour of the feathers and weave them into the mane as well. All black like that is just... I can barely make out the difference between the wings and the body in some parts." 

"Very well. What colour?"

"Uhh... Pink?" She didn't sound so sure of herself, but shrugged. "Give him tail feathers, and he might be able to maintain an altitude. Fan them out wide, and you'll have something with great gliding capabilities."

"I will make a second then, and breed them together. I would like to give you this first one, though." He smiled easily, gently, and she echoed it. 

"Really? He'll need a name then. Shadow? Nah. Umbra? Hmm..." 

"How about Icehaunt." 

He glanced over to where the in-training Emet-Selch sat on the fence, watching them as the boy's friend lurked nearby. He had forgotten they were there.

"I like it. Icehaunt it is." She beamed, moving over to the winged horse and catching the beast's face in her hands. The beast snorted, nostrils flaring as he puffed air into her face. She snickered, rubbing along his nose. "Hullo, Icehaunt."

"Wonderful. Now then-"

"Aren't we supposed to be heading to the library? Eschaton wanted us to get some books for him." It was that in-training boy again, cutting him off and hopping down from the fence. "I don't know about you, but 'tis generally a bad idea to make him have to wait for these things. You never know when his train of thought might wander off."

"True, very true. Alright then. I'll leave it to you to stable Icehaunt." She smiled at Bythos, before moving to join the two boys at the gate. The three of them left, chatting amiably save for the in-training _whelp_ that looked back at him and had the audacity to _smirk_. 

He started to hate him then, just a little bit.

* * *

it was just a stupid _building_. He didn't understand what it was that everyone was getting so worked up about. The lanky upstart had apparently been working on it for close to a decade now, and today was the unveiling. Nobody knew much about it, other than the fact that it was _big_, and set against the wall between the Agricultural District and the Capital. Space had been cleared, the ground excavated, and the crowd gathered to wait and watch silently. He had mixed in with the crowd, and folded his arms to see what, exactly, this 'marvel of engineering' was going to be. 

At length, the whispers and mutterings of the crowd eased as the newest Emet-Selch climbed the stairs to the podium. A brief flicker of aether had his voice projecting across the crowd. 

"Welcome, everyone. I am pleased to announce that my latest project for the Agricultural District is finally complete. I _could_ go into great detail and explain it, but 'tis better to simply see for yourselves after all. If everyone would please remain behind the barricades, I will proceed as planned." Pale gold eyes scanend the crowd, making sure everyone was a safe distance back before he turned and curled his fingers through the air. A purplish, reddish crystal staff materialized in his grasp, and he set it to hover in front of him before he stretched out his hands to either side of it. 

Aether gathered. There was a flicker in the air, before a high, keening note like that of a crystal glass tapped a single time rang out. It was the staff, he realized. It acted as an amplification tool It was a _crutch_. Smirking, Bythos unfolded his arms. That just meant that whatever this was, the poor boy couldn't muster enough to properly manifest it on his own. Carefully, subtly, he let a tendril of his aether flicker outwards.

Emet-Selch's foot slipped slightly, an inch to the left, and he adjusted and stabilized himself with a frown. 

Hmm. Bythos was _impressed_. Aether continued to build as the boy maintained control. He had wanted him to fail right then and there, but something more subtle was needed. He had heard about how the Eschaton had been seen in his company, skulking about. Really, he was _saving_ her from getting tangled up with the fool. 

The temperature dropped around Emet-Selch, and his breath fogged the air. The keening note in the air continued, and though he started to shiver and then shake with the cold he continued to pour himself into his work. Really, Bythos had to commend him for his dedication. Anyone else would have stopped by now. 

Eschaton leapt onto the podium, a fur cloak in hand and wrapped it about the boy's shoulders. She was given a grateful look in return, and she chafed along his arms and beamed at him as her breath also fogged the air. Bythos _fumed_. 

A final surge of aether and the building manifested. The worst part, was that it was _beautiful_. Aquaducts lined the outer edges, set atop pillars, and it was built in tiered steps. Made of a mix of different types of marble, the colours darkening between the steps, going from white marble at the bottom to black at the top.

Turning, collecting the staff in his hand and tapping it against the platform he stood on, Emet-Selch lifted his chin and smiled at the crowd. 

"Behold! My Hanging Gardens. I invite everyone within the AgriCorps to freely decorate and use this space however you should so wish. 'Tis my gift to Eschaton, to all of you, for all of the hard work you put in to make the city of Amaurot the most beautiful on this Star."

Applause rippled through the crowd, and he glared at the way the Eschaton wrapped her arms around the Architect in a hug.

* * *

"Eschaton!" He smiled, catching up to her in the middle of the Agri Center. "I'm glad that I found you. I was wondering-"

"Sorry, I'm a bit busy at the moment. We're still moving everything over to the Gardens." She flashed him an apologetic smile. "Is it important?"

"Bond with me."

"What." Her smile faltered, and she stared at him as if he had grown a second head. 

"I'm serious. Bond with me." Bythos reached out, setting his hands on her shoulders. "We've got a good working relationship. We've been friends for a few centuries now. Longer than you've been Eschaton. We would make an excellent pair."

The room around them had gone silent, and she glanced towards one of the nearby staff and nodded towards the door. Within moments, the entire place was empty. 

"Bythos, look, you're... How do I say this."

"I know, I know, it's difficult to believe. I've been in office for some eight hundred years. Not that long, but longer than yourself. We've proven to work well together. Look at the Night Pegasus. Your suggestion for an ennervation aura proved to be just what it needed to survive in the wilds." He leaned down to kiss her, and his lips met her glove as she leaned back and brought a hand up between them. 

"Bythos, stop. I'm not _Bonding_ with you." 

"What? But... But I love you." He stared at her, an ugly indignation growing within him. 

"No you don't. You like the _idea_ of me. You wouldn't be able to stand me. You _hate_ mud." She shrugged out of his grasp, making a face and stepping back. "Besides, I don't love _you_." 

"... It's that boy, isn't it. The new Emet-Selch. He barely managed to make that ridiculous structure that borders the Capital. He's _weak_-"

"Bythos, it doesn't matter if there's someone else. And Emet-Selch is an _exponentially_ better match for me than you ever could be-"

He slapped her. She stared at him, he stared at her, at his hand, and then lifted his gaze back to her as she hauled back and nailed him across the face with a heavy fist.

* * *

"There you are." He crested the path through the mountain, and stared at her as she smiled mournfully at him. "Stop this nonsense at once. Come back with me."

_(She knew he had loved her, after a fashion. There was only one thing she wanted to say. Only one thing, to encompass the way she had failed to help him understand, to fix him, to help him see that he was broken and chasing a fever dream.)_

"I'm sorry." She said, still looking at him sadly. Her power was greatest there, and she cradled something in her hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. If he tried to take it from her by force it would end poorly for him, as much as he might want to. It could have been a weapon. In fact, Zodiark's voice curled through him, all but confirming it. Confirming, too, that she was somehow in two other spots as well.

Bythos snorted, folding his arms. "You never think these things through. We could have been happy, everything could have gone back the way it was, if only you had cooperated."

She started to move, and he snapped his arms out to conjure ice, to hold her in place only to find her power washing over him, shattering his spell and rooting him instead. He stared at her, gaping like a landed fish as she kept him at bay with _ease_. She held a small, compact aetheric accelerator in her grasp, using it to boost her strength.

She smiled grimly at him, before stepping backwards off the cliff. Her power vanished, and he ran to the edge with his heart in his throat to watch as she plummeted, heard the snap of her fingers, and watched the flash of light as she was consumed in triplicate. 

* * *

_Bythos floated within Thordan, fragmented, immobilized, hemorrhaging memories. He had been frantic at one point, but by then he had simply lost too much. He was largely numb, now. There wasn't much left of him that was _ _coherent. He saw through the eyes of the Primal, saw how she snarled and ran up the length of the blade. He felt the _ ** _intent_ ** _ as the primal readied it's aether and prepared to simply brush her aside with a wave of power. _

_She was going to kill it. Some part of him, the part that obsessed and craved and **loved** cracked, and with it so did his tempering. _

_He wasn't going to let this **thing** hurt her any more. He wasn't going to let **himself** hurt her any more. He couldn't smile. He couldn't even let her know that he was still there. All he could do, was give her a chance. _

_Desperation and determination gave him strength, and he did the only thing he could do to disrupt the flow of aether within Thordan. _

_He detonated his own. _

_The final things he felt before oblivion took him was the way her blades passed through their neck, and peace. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses as to who Bythos is


	55. Chapter 55

Honestly, after the first day, while he _could_ walk Elidibus simply... Didn't want to. 

He was raw, he was sore, and he felt _old_. Older than he ever had. There was an ache within his soul that refused to stop and he was convinced he was starting to be able to tell the weather with it. Aetherical barometric pressure meter. Heh. If he had been a betting man, he would have bet that the level of pain he was in, was only _slightly_ less than what he had felt when Eschaton had cleaved into him the third time, but that was only because the first two had already knocked him largely senseless. 

Still, he had a reputation and image to maintain as the Emissary. He had long since become something of the 'leader' of the remnants of the Convocation, and it wouldn't do for him to lounge around and fall behind when there was so much work to be done. Someone had to do it, had to keep up with everything that was neglected, and he had already convinced himself that none of what he planned to work on was actually stressful. Tiring, perhaps, but... 

He could smile through it. He was Elidibus, of the Forked Tongue. If lying about how he felt and his state of being was what the situation called for, then he would stifle his limp, keep his back straight and his movements graceful. 

Emmerololth found him hissing quietly as he stiffly tried to get out of bed, and promptly tucked him back in. 

"You need not worry about me, Water Bearer." It was _easy_, to keep his voice smooth and free of pain, though he lifted both hands as she gave him a _look_. Well, if he couldn't convince her that he was well enough, he had plenty of tricks up his sleeves. "In fact, if you are so certain that I might injure myself further, I invite you to accompany me. Actually, I could think of none I would prefer to have at my side for this."

"You need to rest, Elidibus."

"I can certainly travel at an amenable pace-"

"So long as that pace is exactly zero malms an hour." She folded her arms, and he slowly lowered his hands with a sigh. Deception and persuasion had failed. That left one thing. He schooled his tone into one that was just slightly chiding.

"Emmerololth, if I so chose to leave this place, do you truly think any but Emet-Selch could stop me?"

"In your state, a child could stop you by sneezing." 

The Emissary felt one of his eyes twitch and lifted one hand to idly rub at his forehead. What hurt the most was that she was probably _right. _One good swat and he would collapse like a castle made of sand before the oncoming tide - piece by only slightly reinforced piece. Deception, persuasion and intimidation had failed. He resorted to his final, secret weapon. 

Wilting where he sat, shoulders rounding with defeat and letting his ragged aether splay out ever so slightly, he let his voice become very, very small and layered it with the melancholy of the ages. 

"I just... I just want to help, Emmerololth. There are people I could be speaking with, I could be assisting with the search for the other Ascians we have lost. In stead, I have to sit here and do nothing, like some frail, feeble creature. I look at the inhabitants of the Star today, and I am inspired by how they refused to give up, even when they were sundered." He could feel the way her gaze wavered, and went in for the kill by slowly lifting his tired gaze and meeting her own with it, the very picture of misery. "How can I just sit here and do nothing, when our people are suffering out there? WheNBLURBLRBL!"

Cold water hosed him down, and he sat there, sputtering and blinking and dripping as she curled her hand and recalled the conjured liquid back into the air around her, leaving him and the sheets dry. 

"_No_, Elidibus."

"Will you at least get me a beer? Please? If I must be bed bound I would rather also be comfortable." His tone was dry, and he lifted one hand to idly fix his hood.

"You'd better not try and sneak out."

He raised his hands in resigned surrender. The Water Bearer stared at him, before turning around and heading into the kitchen only to freeze and turn, rushing back as he finished rolling off the bed and into the void rift he had pulled into being. Cheekily, he even waved as he went.

He came out in Revenant's Toll, and hit the ground with a thud as his vision swam. Okay, he decided. Not quite well enough to travel in such a manner. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up and used the wall for support. There was a lalafell somewhere around her that could provide exactly what he needed, in exchange for exactly what she wanted. Deftly, gritting his teeth at how it aggrivated the raw edges of his soul, he coiled tighter on himself and made himself seem to be just one of the crowd from the view of anyone that might have been searching the aether for him. 

One step. Two steps. The third was easier, and he stepped away from the wall and squared his shoulders. Reaching out, he pushed open the door to the common room of the Rising Stones, and stepped out from the back. 

Conversation died, and he folded his hands neatly behind his back, and inclined his head politely. 

"Good day. I wish to speak with a Mistress Tataru-" He felt one of his Secrets flicker to life. That meant that someone had considered attacking him. He hoped he had the strength to maintain it, and thought quickly about what he could say that might ease that burden. "-on the topic of our freedom from the clutches of an evil most dire. I wish to share with her news from the First, and also come to beg her aid."

* * *

Honestly, he had been in worse spots before. He was seated at a table with a glass of water that he thankfully sipped under the watchful eye of a dozen well armed individuals. He pretended they couldn't beat him to within an inch of his life. They didn't know that they possessed that power (the vessel Emet-Selch had given him was largely what was holding him together, after all) and he was not inclined to let them in on that fact. Eventually, the lalafell herself came marching out of the back and hopped up onto the chair across from him. 

She folded her arms. He politely inclined his head. They sat in silence for a long moment as she evaluated him. 

"The last time we had an Ascian within these halls, I lost the service of two _very_ expensive pillows. The last time it was a servant of Zodiark? We had to move the Scions to protect them. What misfortune do you plan to bring to our halls today, I wonder." She lifted her chin, and he inclined his head politely. 

"None, Mistress Tataru. In fact, I have come to offer apology and information. An olive branch. You are aware of the freedom of Emet-Selch, I believe. The Warrior of Light has freed the rest of the Ascians, and we seek now to weaken Him and support Hydaelyn."

"I'd be a fool to take you at your word, Emissary. Oh yes, I've _heard_ of you. The Rising Stones and the Scions are under _my_ protection." She folded her arms, and he politely inclined his head. 

"You seek proof. Would that I could call the Warrior of Light here to vouch for us, however, she is busy with an entity called 'Eden'. Instead, I will offer this." He lifted his glass, taking a sip to buy time as his mind raced. The cup was set down. "You have among you a lalafell named Krile among you, do you not? I bid you to fetch her. Her Echo should be able to discern whether I lie or tell the truth. However, I would ask that you do so quickly. One of my companions is... Worried, about me, and is smart enough to have narrowed down where I went. She should be here within the half-bell."

"I'm here." The voice came from behind him, and he fought the way he flinched to keep his demeanor and smile in place. 

"Your gift is the gift of Listening, Mistress Krile." Twisting in his chair, the Emissary watched as she pushed her way through the crowd and glared at him. "Do I lie, when I say that we are no longer aligned with Zodiark?"

"... No."

"Do I lie, when I say that the Warrior of Light has freed us?"

"No..." 

"Do I lie, when I claim that it is my wish to trade information and assistance?"

"No, but you _are_ lying about one thing." She stared at him, eyes narrowing before softening. "... You're... Very weak. Your lie is your composure. I can hear it. A rattle to your voice. The way every movement pains you. You're not quite scared, but..."

He winced at that. He had thought he was doing a remarkably fine job at concealing his pain. 

"He's otherwise honest, Tataru-"

He could feel the incoming tide, and closed his eyes. Grasping at two of his Secrets, he glanced upwards and smiled softly just as Emmerololth burst out of a void-rift above them. 

** _<<Sssanctuary, and peeeaaace.>>_ **

She touched down near by, looking ready to defend herself, to defend him... and then everyone in the room _relaxed. _Except for him, as he gripped the table, grit his teeth and fought to keep from doubling over as pain wracked his form. Forcing himself upright, he counted the seconds he could hold his Secrets for, and chose to drop Sanctuary first. 

"Emmerololth,-" His tone was strained, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "-Emmerololth, I am perfectly fine. As you can see, the only stress I have been under was your arrival, and then strictly to ensure nobody made any unfortunate mistakes." 

"Elidibus, stop, you're-" She stared at him, raising both hands. "How can you-"

"Mistress Tataru, I beg your forgiveness for having to act such. May Emmerololth join us at the table, amiably, along with Mistress Krile? Two for two. She is only concerned for my wellbeing." 

"Provided you go into detail about why you look about ready to fall over." The lalafell was frowning. "Whatever you're doing, I don't feel any different for it."

"I have invoked peace. If you held no ill intentions, of course you would remain unaffected." He cleared his throat, and slowly let go of his Secret. Emmerololth stepped over and gently touched his shoulder, and he waved her away, gesturing to the seat. "You worry too much, Water Bearer." 

"Is there anything we can get you? If you have truly spoken honestly - I don't doubt Krile's abilities but I can't be too cautious - then that means you're a friend to us. Of sorts."

"I understand, that we have-" Oh, that wasn't good at all. His vision was swimming, and he rested an elbow against the table and tucked his face against his hand. "-much to make up for. Moreso than you may believe. Actually, yes, do you have any ales? Or beer? A drink would be greatly appreciated." 

"F'lhaminn!" The Lalafell looked -worried-, and he stiffled a laugh as his world continued to feel like it was spinning, darkness creeping along the edges of his vision. Emmerololth reached out towards him once more, and he straightened his posture and lightly thumped a fist down against the table. 

"Emmerololth, I am -fine-. Countless eons have I existed, a brief dizzy spell is not going to kill me. I am the Emissary, the Voice of Cease-Fire and Negotiations. I am-"

His vision went black, and he knew no more.

* * *

In hindsight, he _may_ have overdone it. 

Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked up at the ceiling and realized that, first off, his mask was gone. That meant that, to the casual observer, there was a white-robed Emet-Selch laying diagonally in a bed so that his feet didn't dangle off the end. He delicately reached out to touch the aether nearby, determining if anyone was in the same room as him. 

Emmerololth responded immediately. She had been waiting a few fulms away. 

"You IDIOT! You could have died! What were you thinking!?"

He wasn't, he privately admitted, beyond trying to make sure she didn't accidentally attack anyone trying to 'rescue' him while trying to make sure that nobody accidentally attacked her either. 

"I should go back to the First and tell the Architect, and get him to come back here and talk with you! He's the only one you seem to listen to!" 

Well, half-right. Emet-Selch just said whatever he damn well pleased and sometimes something useful came out. He closed his eyes and let her shout herself out. Half of diplomacy was knowing when you had lost the battle, after all. Still, he was exactly where he wanted to be, within arms reach of an information network that his first inspection of had given him pause at the enormity of it. And at the center of it all, the spider that had spun the web, was incredible lalafell. Tataru was the sword and shield he would need in the coming days as he recovered. 

Speaking of, she was just outside of what he believed was the door, listening in. The white-robed Ascian reached back, and pulled his hood up. Lifting a hand, he waved Emmerololth into a reluctant silence before clearing his throat. 

"Mistress Tataru, would you happen to be holding my mask?"

There was a quiet gasp from behind the door, before it cracked open and she stepped in, the missing red piece in her hands. He eased himself up, smiling faintly as the Water Bearer fussed and helped him, plumping pillows as she went until he was leaning back comfortably and more or less upright. 

"You look exactly like Emet-Selch." Tataru looked down at the mask, and then up at him as she crossed the room and offered it out. "Are you his brother?"

"After a fashion, you could call us such. Co-workers may be more accurate." Reaching out, Elidibus accepted the mask and pressed it into place against his face, sighing quietly as he did. "We are the only two remaining Unsundered. He and I have worked together for a very long time, even by our standards. Regarding our... Physical similarities, he gifted me his vessel, after my own was... Destroyed. I simply have not had the time or inclination to mold it into something more familiar to myself."

She blinked at him, before covering her mouth with a hand. 

"Does... Oh _no_, does that mean... But that would mean... That you kissed _Priscilla!_"

Elidibus blinked, quiet for a moment. Emet-Selch was _involved_ with Eschaton, certainly. Priscilla _did_ mean 'venerable' or 'ancient'. Was that her true name? No. He had a faint tickle of the memory of the Warrior of Light's current reincarnation. Clearing his throat, ignoring the way Emmerololth was pressing her lips together in amusement, he inclined his head politely. He could just see the Architect snickering and smirking, and wondered if his current discomfort been planned. "While this may technically be true, it was Emet-Selch who controlled this vessel at that time, if it was even this specific one. Also, we Ascians put less meaning behind physical acts such as that, considering our bodies are largely expendable. It will hinder us to lose one, certainly, but we may always find another. But I digress. Thank you, for returning my mask." 

"It sort of... Fell off, after you fell off the chair. Are you really okay?"

"I will be. Your concern is noted, and appreciated. I have no further plans to do much in the way of movement or activities, beyond simple conversation and information sharing. While I was tempered, I made note of the network of informants and contacts you have made, Mistress Tataru, and I must say I am quite impressed. As you can see, there is... Little, that I should do. However, with your might, I may be able to affect things for the better." 

"You can't do it on your own, so you want me to use my people to act as your arms and legs." She frowned, looking thoughtful before nodding. "If you're being as honest as Krile said you are... Well, we'll just have to see what it is you're trying to do. What is it, actually?"

"Currently? Looking for a child. They may be only a year or so at this point. I have no proof even that they have been born as of yet. They will have an affinity for ice and may accidentally summon such." 

"A child? Why would you need one? What about the parents?" Tataru narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. It sounded an awful lot like stealing a baby, to her, but his next words had her blinking and gaping at him.

"Because, Mistress Tataru, such will be Lahabrea reborn." 


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place just before 'Oops' (ch 35)

Sitting in the garden that he had recreated for them, with it's pond and muddy banks and the one tree that had been the center point to many of their shenanigans, Emet-Selch was faced with a number of revelations. Some good, some... Less so. 

While neither of them had ever actually gone through the process of properly severing their Bond, her soul bore the scars of at least one attempt to reject it. They were old, from before the Sundering, and if he caressed them gently enough he could read a feeling of bittersweet, horrible heartache that physically _hurt_. Half of that was probably because to break such a Bond, it was necessary to scour your own soul and either damage beyond repair every happy memory tied to the other person, or to remove them in their entirity. It was like destroying your own eyes simply because of something you had seen, that you never wanted to see again. Either method often took much of the personality of the individual with it, and they didn't often choose to continue living for much longer after that. Such was why the Amaurotine word for 'Divorce' was the same as 'Death'. He spent a long moment trying to decide how he might apologize to her in a way that might hold meaning to both of them, and then decided to work on that little issue later. 

The next, most immediately concerning thing that he had found (and it was quite by accident) was that deep within the very core of her essence, tangled up in that sphere of cobalt and ultramarine, there was just an itty, bitty, _teeeeny_ piece of the sickness that had infected the people of Amaurot when the Doom swept through. He had only felt it as she wove herself through his essence, and only for a moment. After their coupling he had been worried that she might have _infected_ him with it, but after a solid ten minutes of meticulous searching he found no traces within himself. She utterly lacked creation magics, so it wasn't as if it effected her, but _he_ still had his, so... 

But no. It was tightly wrapped up in the silver threads that cradled her core. It was likely that she didn't even know it was there. Her soul had probably suppressed it since the time before Zodiark had been raised, and where tempering had cleansed him of it, the closest she had ever been to tempered was being 'gifted' with Hydaelyn's blessing. Then again, it was deeply rooted to fear, and she she didn't seem to have a whole lot of that. Whenever she should have been afraid, it seemed she just went mad instead, blood lust and glee burning through her-

Oh. _Hold on_. That was... Eerily similar to the demeanor of most of the beasts that had been created by the Doom. They had been rabid, gleefully slaughtering all in their path. part of the terror they inspired was the way they had thrown themselves at any resistance with little to no care for their own well-being.

He saw in his minds eye the way Eden Prime's spear had plunged through her torso, shaken her free to drop to the ground, and then aimed another strike. She had been _grinning_, beneath the mask. It had thrummed through her aether, a discordant harmony. She had gotten right back up and charged back in, roaring laughter. 

Hades felt his blood run cold. He could... She was unconscious, soul loosely spread before him as she slept. She need never know he had cut the infection out of her, if he did it. He wouldn't have to fight through her defenses to get to it. It would be painless. 

... Mostly painless. 

He shifted the hand tucked around her knees and gently stroked the side of her face. She would wake up. She would see it as an attack, as a betrayal. She would never _ever_ forgive him. She would _scream_, in such horrible _agony_ that he would falter, fail, and the carefully contained sickness would spread. His creation magic would pick it up, and then they would both die to whatever eldritch monsters he accidentally formed. 

It was _safer_ to leave it be. He knew it was there. He could watch it, see if it was growing into a problem. She was safe enough from it's effects, by and large because instead of creating monsters it seemed to instead fuel her own mental transformation into one. She had yet to come back from that state of mind, that state of being, and... 

But what if, one day, she _didn't? _What if, one day, he looked back on that very moment and went 'I should have cut it out of her'. 

Well, it wasn't as if he was an expert on the matters of the soul anyways. He could carry them, transport them, but picking them apart... He had no guarantee that he wouldn't make a mess of things. It was her _soul_ after all. He wasn't quite so callous as she was when it came to cutting the tempering out of people, and he didn't even know if it was something he could actually _do_. Really, the best case scenario he could come up with was that he surrounded it with himself, drew it out like a poison and then shed that piece of his soul. 

Not a pretty prospect. 

Well, sitting around there _worrying_ about it wasn't going to do him any favours. He scooped her up, and started to leisurely amble through the city back to his apartment. Along the way, he tried to turn his thoughts to the lighter, happier things he had confirmed. She loved him. _She_ loved _him_. She _loved_ him. The only hang-up she had was that the silly thing kept sabotaging herself by thinking he might not love her. Well, hopefully she knew better now. Even if she so chose to separate herself from the concept of Eschaton, hopefully she had seen that he would _still_ love her. He hoped she didn't. She didn't seem inclined to. 

There was a lot of _hope_ there. A lot of hope, and a lot of love. And a _lot_ of missing memories he would have to work to bring to the forefront. Not impossible, however. Not at all. Between his willingness to _try_ and her Echo that allowed her to experience memories, he had a sporting chance. 

So _what_ if she was going to die of old age. So _what_ if he could recount their time together in the past every moment of every day for the rest of her life and still not manage to tell her everything they had ever done together. So. Bloody. _What_. She was there. And he was there. And he was oh so _tired_ of wasting time. 

No more regrets. No more remorse. No more enforced distance. He would be there for her, through every life she wanted him to be part of, come a second Doom or the sudden cessation of all of Creation. He would find her, remind her of who she was, ask her if that was who she wanted to be and ask if she wanted him to be part of her life. She wanted him to be part of the current one, and that was enough to put a spring in his step. 

She _loved_ him. He had felt it in every one of the memories from the time she had won his coat onward. Certainly, it had been faint at that time, but as they had spent more and more stolen moments together it had grown until she was searching for him in every shadow and growing sullen at his absence. She would _kill_ for him. He almost wondered if she would be willing to stay a killing blow for him too. 

He was so light on his feet that he felt like _dancing_, and could not have honestly said that the trip to his, to _their_ apartment hadn't included a few gentle spins. What made it all the sweeter was the way that, even unconscious, she gripped the front of his clothes to keep herself anchored to him. A brief thought had the door to their quarters swinging open, and he hummed quietly to himself as he sashayed to the bedroom to lay her out atop the sheets. 

She didn't want to let go, but some gentle, careful prying loosened her fingers, and he tucked a pillow against her side. Instinctively, she turned and wrapped an arm around it, burying her face into the cover and happily murmuring his _name_. He almost decided against practicing or working on any of his pet projects in favour of burying his face in the crook of her neck and cuddling for a few hours, but no. He didn't quite know when she might wake up, and he wanted to surprise her. 

Of course, for what he wanted to do, created food was the exact _wrong_ way to go. It never quite tasted as good. As such, he snapped his fingers and vanished to the Crystarium, utilized a minor glamour to change how he looked, bought everything he might need in triplicate and then ducked down an alley. Laden with bags as he was, he had to maneuver things for a moment before he could snap his fingers and pull everything with him back to his apartment. 

_Their_ apartment. She had chosen no home of her own beyond what others provided, until a few hours ago. Now, her home was within his heart. As his was within hers. All that belonged to one, belonged to the other and vice versa. Whatever she required, if she didn't already have it, he would do his best to provide. Of course, she might come to see it as an imbalance, but he didn't care. He didn't want material things. He wanted the things he already had. Her smile, the way her eyes would light up, the way her soul brightened when she noticed him. The way everyone else was noted as a 'potential threat' by her aether and he was only noted as such at fifteen. 

She didn't _need_ to call him her Lovely for his mortal heart to skip a beat and his immortal essence to ripple. 

Unpacking the many bags of supplies in the kitchen, Hades took a moment to compare mental recipes and pondered what she might enjoy more. Ever did she simply stuff her face with what was placed before her, but what were her preferences? Would she choose chives over spring onions? Did she like hashbrowns over rounds? Was she the kind of person who disliked the mix of tomato and cheese? Food largely seemed to be food for her, but as he flicked through his memories of watching her eat he felt he was starting to grasp a pattern. Though she could (and would) eat high-class food, the Exarch's sandwiches had kindled a special kind of delight. Any food she was given as payment elicited the same type of reaction, but she tended to unthinkingly stuff most of it in her face. The only things she had stayed still while she ate was the sandwiches and some of the more simple-styled foods. She paid just a little bit more attention to it.

That narrowed his options down to fried eggs, bacon and hashbrowns... and an omelet. 

He tried to picture her eating an omelet with _refinement_ and laughed. 

The first option, then. 

Rolling up his sleeves, he stooped down and searched his cupboards for a frying pan and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think, should I move it so that it's in order? Or leave it where it is


	57. Getting the Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something largely happy, because this morning I too am largely happy  
^.^

They kept making the occasional wager. Just small things, things to stave off boredom. Things often taken with a measure of amused patience. For example, on one of the rare occasions that Ryne found Emet-Selch and he engaged in idle word-play (she tried so hard at their little games, bless her fragmented soul) she had fallen asleep leaning against him and he had simply returned to his reading until the Warrior had shown up and bet him that she could weave ribbons into the girl's hair without waking her up. 

He had produced fulms of the stuff, watching in rapt fascination (though he would never have admit it at that time) as she absolutely loaded the girl's hair with it. 

The former Oracle had woken up alone using his book as a pillow, because they both had gotten bored of waiting for her to do so on her own. She kept them in her hair, delighted, until Thancred had made her take most of them out after she tossed her head and whapped him with some of the braided, ribbon-laden lengths. 

Point to the Warrior. 

Another bet was on the likeliness of Urianger wearing underwear under his robes. She had laughed and asked what day it was, which had given the Ascian pause. She was bluffing, she knew the elezen was, he was too prim and proper to do otherwise (and if he wasn't, she certainly wasn't going to tell Emet-Selch that) but the Architect didn't have to know that. Still, they had both sauntered up to the rather suddenly on edge astrologian who had paused mid-conversation with Y'shtola and tilted his head as if fighting the urge to look behind him. 

The Warrior had proceeded to reach down and haul up the edge of his skirt, before nodding and looking to Emet-Selch, who leaned and peered as well. 

"See? Told you so." 

An ever so soft sigh of resignation escaped Urianger, and he blithely resumed his conversation as they dropped the hem of his skirt and ambled off. The miqo'te had clapped a hand over her mouth, torn between wanting to chide them and wanting to laugh. 

Point to the Warrior. 

Oh, but Emet-Selch was more than able to hold his own in such things. He was an Architect. _The_ Architect. Planning was one of his strengths, for all that she threw most of those plans out the window. It was something of a natural instinct for her to do so, in fact. So he played to his strengths. He learned just how far her unusual ability to sense people reached. He learned, through a series of experiments, how likely she was to notice the smallest changes in the environments she found herself in. He ever so carefully balanced a small bucket of brilliant purple paint on the edge of her door. 

She walked into that one, utterly unsuspecting and had chased him through the Pendulums, cursing and laughing and dripping paint. She had gone back and cleaned it up without any fuss once he hopped onto a railing and drifted out into the open space where she couldn't follow him, grinning and plotting her revenge.

Point to the Architect. 

Together, they planted tiny inch-tall figurines of the Exarch about the Crystarium, though they both got bored waiting for him to call them on their shenanigans. They called that one a _draw,_ mainly because the Warrior had found that some children were collecting them and using them as action figures. Imagine their surprise when they started finding ones of Lyna, the Warrior and even a few Emet-Selch's had entered circulation. The Architect had folded his arms and _sulked_ for a good hour when he found out that the ones modeled after him were being used as an 'ancient evil sorcerer'. 

Okay, so the Warrior privately ceded that point to the Exarch. But neither of them ever received confirmation, so it stayed officially marked as a draw between them. 

She had a handicap in their games, because he knew where her rooms were but she had yet to find out if he lived anywhere at that point. Because he was still tempered at that point she didn't think he would tell her, so she didn't ask. Instead, with the Exarch running interference and pestering the Ascian for answers on how parts of the Tower worked she trapped her own quarters. 

Slow-drying ink was applied to the rim of a dusky wineglass. Fresh paint was meticulously applied over a label on the wine bottle. When he arrived, muttering to himself, she sat down with him at the table and sipped from a bottle of brandy as he poured himself a cup of wine and then brought the glass to his mouth, only to pause. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared as he took a sniff. 

He studied the rim of the glass, and then caught sight of the mess of paint on his glove. 

She had done her best to look innocent, and he had dramatically rolled his eyes before simply drinking from the bottle. He figured he might as well, considering his glove already had paint on it. He even lifted it in a toast to her creativity. 

Point to the Warrior. 

Ohh, but he got her _good_ in retaliation. 

He made sure to get her good and drunk first. It lowered the odds he would be discovered. When she was truly unconscious, he reached out and idly thumbed along her hair. A brief, minor transmutation later and it was growing. Shoulder length, mid back, waist, it pooled against the floor after a solid five minutes of focus. A snap of his fingers and it was brilliant, bubblegum pink. 

He had expected her to _own_ it, to wear it as if nothing was wrong. He wasn't disappointed. The next morning, he lurked invisibly in her rooms and watched her slowly rouse and then grunt, baffled by the extra weight attached to her head. after a moment of groggy inspection, she had cackled, clutched her head, and then staggered out to try and find the twins. They helped her braid it and she wore it like that for three whole days until she finally lopped off the extra length. 

She still had it, tied with ridiculous purple ribbons and tucked away for safe keeping. She had eventually asked him to change it back, and obligingly he did. 

Point to the Architect. 

Really, she was incredibly competitive when it came these things. He should have seen her small revenge coming from a mile away. fortunately for her, he didn't. 

Emet-Selch liked to impose himself on her. After she came back one day drenched in sweat she had found her bath already occupied by a very, -very- naked Ascian. She would have chalked it up to a point for him, except that she had prepared and simply stripped down to her small clothes and went in for a soak. She had no shame, and she was too scared to consider herself conventionally beautiful. She had been trying to get him to feel awkward but boy, had that backfired. Instead, after half an hour of contently soaking, she had mentioned he was starting to _prune_, and that there was a wonderful bottle of wine for him on the table. 

He rolled his eyes, got up to go and grab a towel and make his way over only to pause and come back as she pursed her lips together and fought to keep from laughing. 

"Well played, Hero. Well -played-." 

She finally looked up at him, trying not to get an eyeful but losing it at the way he had inadvertently caked himself with the flour she had loaded the topmost towels with. 

Point to the Warrior. 

Oh, but he was _not_ to be outdone. 

He watched. He waited. And when the opportunity presented itself, he _struck_. 

First thing in the morning, before she woke up, he slipped a bit of fish oil between the actual heel of her boots and the metal caps. She spent the day baffled as stray cats swarmed her, meowing and rubbing against her legs. It wasn't until much later that she started to tear her own effects apart looking for what might have been the cause, and she had promptly chucked one of her boots at him when she had discovered what, exactly, had happened. 

He had dodged, of course, weaving aside as she started to take apart he boots and clean the residue out. 

Point to the Architect. 

Alas, but it was the very eons he had lived that would lose him their next round. It was how she was always thinking of the next second, the next breath versus his longer view of time. A year, after all, for him was a short amount of time. Barely any time at all. 

She struck the very next day. 

It was a routine patrol of the Forest of the Lost Shepherd. She invited him, because he was going to come along anyways and she might as well have been polite and offer. He came back from that one laden with carefully placed bells clamped to the furred edges of his coat and frogs in his pockets. He hadn't even noticed her sleight of hand until he had turned a little sharper than he otherwise would have to find that he _jingled_. 

Point to the Warrior. 

He loaded one of the pages of his books with flour, turned to a previous page and snickered. She came over to see what it was he was laughing at, he tried to keep the book from her, relented, turned the page and held it out for her to see it. The Warrior leaned in to peer at it before he snapped the book shut and dusted her face with flour. 

Point to the Architect. 

She bet him twenty gil that she could dye the tip of Y'shtola's tail without anyone noticing until it was too late. He bet her he could dye the tips of the miqo'te's ears for the same amount and the same restrictions. She won, and Y'shtola had very nearly set him on fire. 

Point to the Warrior, along with twenty gil.

It continued like that, back and forth with small stolen moments of mischief interspersed with wagers as to whether or not one of them could do a thing faster or better than the other. Countless tiny moments of happiness that helped them both while away the time and inspired the other to greater acts of shenanigans. Shameless indulgence on both their parts as they slowly but surely became closer until he was dreading the day she would go after the final Lightwarden. He didn't _want_ her to lose against the aether she collected, regardless of what simple mathematics and calculations told him. He was too invested. 

He girded himself against the thought, and planned his next prank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INSPIRED


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at all the words that fell out*  
Hope they're in an okay order...

Elidibus stretched idly. The conversation with Tataru had gone well, and for all that he was a ragged, shedding soul he felt as if he had accomplished something. Emmerololth had decided to watch him from the shadows because she felt she had a better chance of intercepting him if he decided to do anything she considered 'risky'. 

Fortunate it was for him that he didn't intend to do so. For all that he had taken several measured risks to get there, he knew well enough to stay put. No, the only reason he could see that he would need to get up and portal anywhere would be if an enemy suddenly burst into his room. He had placed himself at the heart of allied territory, in the very seat of their power, and without the Ascian's ability to teleport more or less freely that meant that the only people that the inhabitants of the Rising Stones had to worry about were Garleans. 

The war front was a respectable distance away, and from what he could tell had largely gone quiet with how Zenos was doing... Whatever it was he was doing. There wasn't a lot of information beyond what was passed to them by someone known as 'Shadowfox' and 'Azure'. Of course, the Ascian presumed they were speaking in code considering they didn't quite trust him (yet, he added, didn't trust him yet) and even then neither of them had been heard from in a worryingly long amount of time. 

They were kind enough to have left him a little bell to ring if he needed anything. What he needed however, was information, and he found himself woefully lacking. Still, they were warming up to him rapidly, especially when he started drawing them maps of what he knew of Garlemald and where the extra Black Rose facilities had been located. 

Even then, he was sadly left with little to do beyond resting, opening is senses to the aetheric and watching everyone however he could. He found a few individuals with the Echo, Hydaelyn's blessing, and mentally made a note to ask about them at a later date. He idly drummed his fingers against the raised desk that sat over his lap as he lay in bed, propped up by pillows and the headboard. 

Boredom was a small price to pay for survival. 

A familiar soul entered his range, and he lifted his head and hummed quietly. 

"Emmerololth, they bring Igeyorhm." 

"You aren't strong enough to-"

"Water Bearer, even if I had the strength such is lost to me." He smiled slightly, sadly she stepped out of the shadows and gawked at him. 

"But... But that's-"

"I was only ever able to do so due to Zodiark's Blessing. It was from his memories that I was able to awaken your souls, raise you back to the ones you were. This does not mean that all is lost." Raising a hand, he let his smile fade. "The Warrior of Light was able to restore me after the injuries I sustained. It is entirely possible that, should we recreate the circumstances that she was able to do so, we may yet be able to do similar for our fallen brethren. First, however, we must find them all. Lahabrea takes precedence, considering his soul is complete and may accidentally pose a danger to the mortals around him." 

"... You want to send me out to look for them again." She folded her arms, scowling under the mask that covered the upper half of her face. 

"I do. You know what to look for. You also know that this is where I want to be, and as such will not leave unless I have no other choice." He gave her a soft smile once more, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. "... No, I think this is where I must remain for the time being. The land is rich enough in aether that I will reconstitute at a decent pace and this is the center of the web that Mistress Tataru has woven. There are, however, some things that I would like you to gather from where I have made my home. I will tell you how to find it, I will tell you how to enter it, and I will tell you what it is that you must bring to me." 

"I have to stay here and look after you, Emissary-"

"Do you really think that the Architect would have laid his plans so carelessly as to be unaware of my intent? That he would have bid you, the Water Bearer, to watch over me without knowing that I would not simply sit in Azys Lla? No, he sent you to me for a reason. You, who we have set to find our fallen. I have known him since before the Sundering, and I have never known him to make such a decision lightly, to act for no reason."

Emmerololth stared at him for a long moment, before sighing as she gave up. "... Fine. What do you need me to bring, and where do I need to go to get it."

* * *

"Mitron?"

"Hmm?" Teal eyes turned to regard Ryne as she frowned at him. 

"Is... Is everything alright? You keep staring out over the water, and you're... Your face is almost as red as your mask." She reached out, poking his cheek gently and the Ascian flinched back slightly and tapped the lengthened points of his gloved fingers together. 

"... Emet-Selch. Amaurot used to be over that way, and he's returned to roughly where it once stood."

"How can you tell?" Ryne turned and peered out over the railing. They stood on one of the many balconies of Eulmore, while Thancred did some shopping nearby. "Isn't it really far away?"

"Maybe for you. We wouldn't be able to teleport very well if we couldn't make a connection to wherever we wanted to go." Mitron cleared his throat, before hunching and leaning on the railing, head ducking slightly. "... It's... I don't know if I can explain. It's like trying to describe colour to someone who's never seen it before. It's like... Like I just _know_. The Paragons have a greater range than we Sundered do, but..."

"When I sensed the Lightwardens, I could feel them like a spot of warmth in the air. I could turn and just... Know they were that way." Ryne offered helpfully, watching him as he frowned and perked up. 

"It's... That's a very good way to describe it, actually, but it's... Different. For me, it's like a sound. Like a vibration in the air. if someone's a certain distance away and shouting, you're going to notice them a lot easier than if they're having a regular conversation, and certain sounds carry better than others."

"And Emet-Selch is being... Loud?" She tilted her head to the side, and he shifted uncomfortably as the red across his face deepened. 

"... I wish he wasn't." Came the timid admittance, and the Ascian cleared his throat quietly. "Eschaton is with him. I don't think they know I'm here, and..." 

The former Oracle blinked at him, frowning before her eyes slowly widened. Soon enough, she was just as red in the face as he was, both hands raised to cover her mouth. 

"They're..." 

They shared a cringe, and he nodded. Both of them were thoroughly grossed out, until Thancred clapped a hand down onto the Ascian's shoulder and blinked as he collapsed into a boneless heap. He remained unmoving for a long moment as the gunblade nudged him with a toe until he was pushing himself back up, muttering out a litany of 'Sorry, sorry, sorry!'. 

"Did Thancred just scare you out of your vessel?" Ryne blinked, giggling quietly as he looked away, mumbling and sheepish. 

"Enough of that. Is there anyone else here you would like to visit, Ryne?" Thancred folded his arms, ignoring the way Mitron was adjusting his robes and trying to make himself seem as small as possible. 

"No, I've already said hi to everyone." She smiled and looked down at her feet for a moment. "The Chais are as nice as ever, and they gave me a letter to give to Alphinaud when I see him next."

"Good. Ascian, do you know where Twine is?" The gunblade looked to Mitron, who flinched as if physically struck and gave them both a strained smile.

"Umm... Can't... Say I'm familiar with it, no..." 

"If I show it to you on a map, can you take us there?" 

"That-Yes, that I can do, Sir." Mitron cleared his throat, straightening his posture slightly even as he continued to partially cringe. 

"Then that's what we-... What are you _doing_, Ascian." Thancred narrowed his eyes, frowning as the black robed figure cleared his throat. 

"N... Nothing, Sir. Emet-Selch is... Watching me. It's just... Got me a little bit on edge, is all."

"I'll say." Pulling a map out of his pack, the gunblade unrolled it and held it out. "We're here. We want to go there." 

Mitron nodded hurriedly, before glancing at Ryne. "This... Is where you want to go?"

She nodded, and watched as he turned and held his hands out, a ripple of darkness opening with a quiet rush of air. The three of them stepped through without issue, leaving Eulmore behind as the rift closed.

* * *

Elidibus wasn't too proud to accept help when he needed it, but he felt the wooden wheelchair they brought to his room was just a bit too much. Instead, he pushed himself from the bed and stood beside it, moving slowly and carefully as his vision took a moment to clear. Some of them looked sheepish, and he raised a hand to absolve them of such. 

"Quite honestly, after I collapsed in the common room, I would have been surprised if you did not question my stability. So long as I move slowly, I will be able to walk without issue. There are few days where I feel my age as keenly as this one, and so the thought and concern is both noted and appreciated." 

Tataru squinted at him, but simply nodded and led the way out of the Rising Stone and into the courtyard they had brought the chocobo he had requested. He blinked down at it as it blinked up at him with sea-foam green eyes, and he moved to slowly descend into a crouch, offering one hand to the midnight blue beast. Build of a draft chocobo indeed, and a brief study of the beast's aether confirmed it. Female once more. She chirped, curious about his hand and no more than three fulms tall at the shoulder. 

Please don't bite me, he silently asked of Igeyorhm's soul, for I have had a terrible week and this would be just too much, even if most of it was my own fault. 

"Is that really an Ascian?"

"In part. Right now she is rather more chocobo, I'm afraid." Elidibus stifled a sigh of relief as the bird decided she didn't hate him and nosed into his glove. "Her soul, however, is indeed that of Igeyorhm. She will need to be awakened."

"And can you do that?"

"No, not I. Another, perhaps. It's possible that I may even be able to devise a way with what I have sent Emmerololth to recover for me. We will require Emet-Selch as well, but he is currently occupied with assisting the Warrior of Light. For now, I ask of you, please keep her safe." Slowly, carefully, Elidibus pushed himself up and straightened, proud of how he subdued his wince. Pausing, he tilted his head and glanced towards the front of the building as a pair of souls, one flickering and barely holding on, drew his attention. "Mistress Tataru, I believe someone requires medical aid. Someone has brought a dying garlean to your doorstep."

She blinked at him, before the door to the courtyard burst open. 

"Tataru! Estinien brought Gaius back and Twelve they're both a mess!" 

She glanced at the messenger, before looking at him and then hustling off to find a healer. He made his slow, careful way back to his rooms, pondering the development. Gaius was the dying soul, and he recognized the other from his fight with the Warrior of Light when he had possessed the body of Zenos. So, Estinien was the dragoon then. 

He would have to avoid that one. Elidibus didn't like his chances with the volatile soul that one possessed. He was one of the few souls that the Emissary's Secrets weren't likely to work on. 

Beasts had no use for the laws of Men, after all.


	59. Chapter 59

Each and every one of them had three 'forms'. The first, was their physical form. Most Amaurotine citizens had a certain degree of flexibility with that one, able to marginally alter their height, hair colour, eye colour and a variety of other small things. Generally, only the very talented could do such drastic things such as adding tails or otherwise going from eleven fulms in height to, say, four. 

This made the Eschaton secret of shapeshifting... Unusual. 

He asked her about it, as they lay in bed resting together, his hand idly tracing along her hip what the limitations on it were. She had laughed, made a jibe about not realizing that his _tastes_ ran that way, only for him to promptly push her out of the bed with a disgruntled sound of irritation. She simply sat up, folded her arms on the edge of the bed and grinned at him. 

"Imagination, and caloric energy. It's why I eat so much." She had finally answered. 

That meant that she could look like _anything_. She told him it worked better if she understood their anatomy, because forgetting that a certain body type needed three hearts to pump the blood through the body had gotten her in trouble before. But yes, in essence. She could look like a frog. She could look like a bird. She could look like _him_. 

She proved it, skin rippling and hair darkening save for that one streak of white. She winked at him with his own pale gold eyes, and he frowned at her. 

"You have made my nose appear _far larger_ than I believe it is."

"Nothing wrong with your nose. I like it." His own voice had answered back, and he had promptly stuffed a pillow over her face. Bad enough that he and Hythlodaeus looked the same, they didn't need to be triplets. She chuckled and he felt the subtle weaving of her aether as she pushed the pillow back and stared at him with her own face once more. 

The second form, was the one that their soul instinctively took to aetheric senses. These were constructed of perceived textures, colours and patterns. Her crystal to his fog. Her impossible, bluest blue to his glossy violet-black. Her silver strands to his gold speckles. These varied wildly among the populace, and was generally something that people kept barriers and shields around because the soul was their very _essence_, and looking directly at one was a little bit like looking at someone _naked_. 

Generally frowned upon. He was particularly good at keeping his soul shrouded and barricaded against the world and Eschaton was... Not. He hadn't even believed that she knew how to until one day she stared at him and pulled them up. They weren't the _best_, but they were serviceable, and when asked why she didn't use them, didn't practice them she looked at him and turned into a rabbit. The very act of shapeshifting had drastically altered the way she appeared in the aether: essentially like the animal itself, if tinged with her blue. Once she had returned to her preferred form, she had brushed herself off and said she didn't care, said that if she really wanted to she could hide herself away with most none the wiser. 

That it gave people some measure of peace, when they believed they could read her like an open book. There was also the matter of how she could completely still the crystalline exterior of her soul, letting them still see her and yet get nothing. Get less than nothing. Inscrutable. 

The third form, was... Largely accidental. 

Their souls, being robust, all but ensured that only accidents or the long, slow march of countless years would cause them to die. This also generally meant that their bodies were incredibly resilient, durable, strong and able to endure things that regular animals largely could not. Sometimes, however... 

Sometimes, things _happened_. 

The body would die, but the soul would have unresolved business. Powerful, mighty, the soul would draw on both ambient aether and it's own to manifest a container that was... That was _them_. Flesh stripped away, soul laid bare, this form was born of sheer willpower and an urge to survive. This was common knowledge, and tied to their ability to temporarily inhabit a nearby body until they could Create one for themselves. It didn't happen often, because of the differences between a naturally born body and one simply Created, but it was something that every of age Amaurotine citizen braced for the same way they braced for their license. 

With hope that an accident would never befall them, but trust that if it did everything would (probably) turn out alright.

This third form was a summation of everything they believed themselves to be. It was a materialization, a manifestation of how they perceived themselves enforced and pushed into existence so that they could instincively anchor themselves to it. They didn't have a choice in how it looked, they couldn't hold up a mirror and go 'hmm I think I would rather be purple today', if they were green with envy, then they were green.

Emet-Selch had the misfortune of finding out what Eschaton's third form was. As much as it had rattled him, it had suited her _perfectly_. 

* * *

Every time he saw that bird, it promised to be a bad time. 

He was sitting in his office, sorting through various building plans when gently there came a tapping at his window. Twisting to glance over, he stared at the white bird that bore blue banding and pushed away from his desk, opening the window. The bird had taken off, making it's way to the south, and he hopped the sill, wove a brief spell of flight and took off after it. 

He crossed over the city boundaries, and squinted at the way the bird simply _kept going_. Grimacing, he curled one hand and pulled his staff of office into existence and transferred his maintenance of the spell to it. It wouldn't do to exhaust himself before he got... Wherever he was going, and he was thankful that he had as after several hours and a few thousand miles the bird finally dipped and spiraled into a sinkhole where he realized a city had once been. 

Vines led down into the pit, and people were crawling, climbing out and gathering around it. He settled a few inches above the ground, and reached out to snag the arm of one of the beast people that was catching it's breath. 

"What happened here?"

It looked at him, eyes widening in terror and rasping out something unintelligible. Of _course_ they would have their own language. He grimaced under his mask and drifted over to the hole, peering downwards, reaching out with his aether, searching. 

He felt her. He felt her pain, he felt her _rage_, he felt her hopes and determination. He felt the tiny points of light that were the beastmen, and unthinkingly dove into the hole. Down, down into the dark as motes of light bloomed around him, illuminating the way the massive pit twisted and was lined with vines until he started finding bits of wreckage. 

The ground rumbled, threatening to collapse further, and he started to work his way through the cracks and crevices that led deeper. It was there that he found her, partially burning as she stood rooted in the center of a magma flow with her hands raised, keeping what she could of the rubble from falling further. 

Spines angled down where they ran along her back, a vaguely humanoid beast of bone and bark that shifted and flexed with the vines that wove neatly in corded batches like muscles. Two large wings, bat-like in their appearance were spread to help support the roof, and from the jagged, elongated line of her maw came a consistent, pained rumble. A curling rack of branch-like horns helped to support the crumbling mass above her, even as a number of beastmen climbed and crawled, dragging one another to safety.

Across her face, bone plates mimicked the appearance of her mask and formed a set of horns that framed her fanged jaw even as it covered the lengthy snout that came to a rounded point, and two great big, solid blue eyes with two pinpricks of silver blazed. Her shoulders seemed to lead directly into her neck similar to the way a birds would, set atop a stocky torso that tapered at the waist before brancing into two thick, sturdy legs that were more akin to great tree trunks before they disappeared into where the molten lava was cooling about them. A long, curled tail similar to that of a monkey was raised, trying to keep clear of the magma below, but as she struggled periodically part of it would dip, and she would rasp out a pained hiss. 

He stared at her, before realizing that this... This was not a shapeshifted form. This was her, her aether made manifest.

She was _burning_. 

She was burning for these tiny, miniscule lives that tried to climb, tried to make their way up and to the vines that led down to her to safety. He knew she wouldn't move until they were safe. A quick glance around informed him as to the materials he had on hand, and he got to _work_. 

Drifting down to settle on the tip of her nose, he set the staff to float before him and spread his arms, crown manifesting as he did and beginning to rotate rapidly above his head. Weaving his aether, he pulled stone from the walls and formed ramps and paths even as he called into being scaffolding and bracing rods of metals best suited for such high temperatures. He supported the ceiling with his work so that she wouldn't have to strain so. 

His efforts were rewarded, as lengths of vines started to snake out from her, curling around the waists of those that were having the most trouble climbing and bearing them up and away to undoubtedly safer locations. 

One hand raised to keep his still-forming work intact, he angled the other one down and from the magma, bunkers and bulwarks began to form. He set them as close as he could to her legs, splitting the flow and diverting it away from direct contact. Splitting his concentration in such a manner was taxing, but the quiet, crooned rumble that came from her kept him focused. At length, the walls were complete and holding (for the time being) and he returned the bulk of his attention upwards. 

Thirty or so beastmen left. Vines continued to snake down from the ceiling, curl around those that were left and bear them upwards. By the time the last of them were safe, the glow to her eyes had dimmed and she sagged. 

"Eschaton!" The Architect rapped the staff against the bone plate of her nose. "Persephone, you can stop now!" 

Those eyes settled on him, and he paused as he realized she was waiting for _him_ to leave. Pale gold eyes narrowed, and he re-wove his spell of flight even as he moved, drifting to settle in front of an eye as large a she was tall. 

"_No_, I am not _leaving_ you behind! The roof will hold long enough for me to bear you out of here!" He floated closer, reaching out to settle his hand above her eyelid, smoothing his fingers through the moss-like texture he found there. "Don't _worry_ about me. I am far more worried about _you_ than I am about the journey out."

She rumbled before the eye closed. A shimmer overtook her, and he could feel the way her soul curled into a ball inside his chest. The ceiling rumbled, and his supports started to fail as he realized just how much of the roof she had been holding. She must have been anchoring it further back, through the rubble with her vines-

Nothing for it. A barrier shimmered into life around him, and he surged upwards even as the roof descended to meet him. 

* * *

He was ashamed to admit that he had gotten _stuck_ for a few moments, but a few well-placed daggers of obsidian had blown a path open and send him surging into the darkness of the pit. Above, the sky was a circle of rapidly approaching blue, and he cleared the edges of the pit before drifting over to solid ground and touching down, stumbling to his knees and trying to catch his breath. The beastmen kept a distance from him, and he tried to ignore them even as he leaned heavily on his crystal staff. 

Funny, he had long been told that the soul of another was a heavy burden. Hers seemed... Light. He would have been worried that he might have left some behind save for the fact that he could feel her reassurance. Shaking his head, he glanced over to the white bird with it's blue banding as it flit over and settled onto his shoulder. 

She asked for control, and he only hesitated for the moment it took for him to dismiss his crown, concerned about how the Secret might interfere with whatever she intended to do before relinquishing control. It was both easier and harder than he would have thought it would have been, and he felt the silent call that thrummed through the air. 

A cry answered her, and soon enough an Amaro was landing before them. She settled back, relinquishing control back to him, and he tiredly climbed onto the beast's back before dismissing the staff so that he could clutch at it's back. Nooo, saddles were for _normal_ people, of course _Eschaton_ had to go and ride beasts without them. He wasn't going to let her live _that_ down any more than he was the fact that he was still on his _first_ body while now they had to start the long, laborious process of getting her another.

Her amusement filled him at his sarcastic bitterness, and the beast took to the air, heading home. 


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! We come to the plot I've been playing with and not directly addressing for... Well, ever. It only took me sixty chapters to work up the nerve to actually start it properly.  
... I hope you like it x.x I've dropped hints here and there, but...  
Nyeh, nervous  
I was initially going to start it after Eden but... Yeah.   
Heck it. Full speed ahead!

Hydaelyn had a great number of things to think about, as she drifted. 

Processing the Lifestream was, by and large a process that took care of itself. It had done so for longer even than she had existed, far longer, and would continue to do so after she was gone. But there were brief moments where she interfered, where she made tweaks and adjustments. The Warrior of Light, the ever-reincarnating soul of Eschaton, was one such situation. Bestowing the Echo among others was another. Ascians... 

She _tried_ to hide them from each other. The fewer of them working in tandem, the better. It never seemed to work out, no matter what she did, but she liked to think that she at least gave them the chance to live lives uninvolved with the absolute, utter disaster that was drawn out among the eons. She had very nearly failed again, and it was only the clever work of one of the most subtle of her allies that had prevented it. 

His soul was simply _like_ that, though. Usually helping from the shadows. The Mothercrystal knew that Eschaton had called him 'friend', and had spared him what pain she could. 

And now, the Ascians were free. Now, they risked themselves simply to speak with her, to beg an audience, the last two powerful Sorcerers of Eld. She could have destroyed them. Concentrated aether could scatter them with ease. 

_One day, let's all meet up again. Another day, in another place, let's all look forward instead of back. _

Eschaton's final wishes. And so she studied them, saw that they were clean and free of Zodiark and able to make their own choices. Ever had she held hope for the choices of others, was it truly so wrong for her to spare them? So close to what she could feel would be the End, did she dare let herself hope? 

Would it be against the wishes of Eschaton if she did not?

The concept of giving up was _unforgivable_. She held the captive soul within her, studied it, ensured that it was clean and free of Zodiark's touch. For all that they scoured the world for their fallen Speaker, they would never find him. Would he help, if she returned to him his memories? Should she cause him to be nigh useless to them, and ensure that he could not? 

Nearly eight times had she failed. Nearly eight times and they came before her, bearing words of _Hope_. Words the Eschaton would have longed to hear. 

The current Eschaton was the most unusual yet. Every reincarnation of her had instinctively taken up the fight, across every shard without any prompting. She was always given a chance to find a quiet life, because Choice was important, but she never stayed content with that for long. But now... Feeding her Echo back into herself had robbed her of any true casting potential but given birth to the best chance so far. Monster and Hero both. A _true_ Warrior. Someone to balance the scales. 

What would her instincts tell her, about the captive soul caught in crystal and set to spin about Hydaelyn as she pondered when best to release him, and in what state? Probably much the same as what the Mothercrystal's did, although for one of them there was better reason than the other. 

Hydaelyn _knew_ what he had done. Knew exactly what had allowed the Warrior to cleave through Thordan and take the head from his shoulders instead of being knocked back and nearly split in two. She had seen it, in his memories as she untangled them from his soul. 

Decisions, _decisions_.

The Emissary, though every second spent in her realm, spoke at length of why the Warrior needed the Ascians. But they were no longer tempered. Her blessing would do more harm than good. She couldn't protect them from Him, and if they went to fight against Him then she was sure that Eschaton would have bet on at least one attempt on His part to recover them. 

Well. Unless the currently living Ascians died, she couldn't Bless them. But... For one already dead, who's purpose might be temporarily served and tweaked...

She could wait. But... She knew she shouldn't. 

And so it was that Hydaelyn reached out to an ally long believed forgotten. Weak as her reach was, he met her half way and accepted her words. Accepted the burden she offered to him, and returned to the Star. 

Somewhere, deep in the snow-capped peaks that surrounded Ishgard, silver-gold eyes opened, and _remembered_.

* * *

Vidofnir flew as hard and as fast as she could. The voice of her forebears resounded through her, a pounding song that gave strength to her wings as she soared. The world of Man needed her speed in this, and she would be remiss to ignore the call. Not after everything these specific people had done. 

She made good time, though the effort exhausted her. It wasn't long at all before she found Silvertear lake, and the corpse of the greatest of them all. Gliding the rest of the way, she circled to make sure she wasn't going to accidentally be attacked (old habits died hard, and it was good to be cautious) before back winging into the courtyard. 

_{I hath come to speak with the Warrior of Light. Pray, bring her before me.} _The mortals stared up at her, before one scurried into the building proper. After a moment, a lalafell emerged wearing a pink dress and a red hat with a feather in it. The scent was vaguely familiar. One of the Warrior's friends? Perhaps. Vidofnir rumbled quietly, thoughtful, though she blinked and perked up as, Estinien limped out and stared at her. 

"Vidofnir. She's not here." 

_{Curt, as always. I was bid by mine forebears to deliver this child unto her. Where must I travel, to do so?}_

"Deliver a child to her?" The lalafell blinked before gasping and nervously fidgeting in place. "Oh no, oh _no_, what colour are the eyes? We were just asked to look for a baby that might cause trouble for their parents!"

_[I can feel Elidibus within. Vidofnir, this is where I'm meant to go.]_

_{Art thou certain, Child?}_

_[As certain as I am of my own name.] _Pale yellow scales adorned the hatchling that clumsily, carefully climbed down from the dragon's back, wings working as he tried to manage his decent. One of Vidofnir's hands came out to pluck him up and then orient him on the ground between herself and the mortals. _[Useless, uncoordianted, horrible vessel-] _

That same paw came down and mushed him gently into the ground. 

_{Mind thy manners, Child. It is an honour for your kind to be reborn at all, let alone as one of my kin.}_

_[You are NOT my -mother-! I've thousands of years seniority on you-] _The hatchling wheezed out a _squeak_ as Vidofnir continued to apply pressure. 

_{Thou art born from descendants mine, Whelpling. When thy elders bid thee to mind thy manners, thou will be **pressed** to do so should thou fail.}_

_[E-Elidibus, help!]_

"By all means, Child of Hraesvelgr, continue your lesson. I would not dare to interfere." The Emissary's voice drew all eyes upwards to where he was slightly leaning out of the window of his room. He gave them all a small smile, even as Estinien narrowed his eyes and drew his spear. "Peace, I am here for the same reason as Lahabrea, I would presume. To aid Hydaelyn against her eternal foe."

"It's true, it seems Priscilla recruited them to help end the war, among other things." Tataru reached out to pat Estinien's leg. "He told us where the rest of the Black Rose facilities are, and we were going tot ry and get in touch with you to destroy them, but then you turned up at our doorstep."

Vidofnir rumbled thoughtfully, before slowly nodding. The hatchling wheezed out another squeak as she idly rolled it and continued mushing it into the ground. _{Thus matches what hath been said by our forebears. But why then was such haste imparted to me?}_

"I can't help but think perhaps some calamity is on the horizon." Elidibus frowned faintly, looking thoughtful. "Mayhaps something I've missed. Alternatively, it could be that Hydaelyn wishes us to have as much time as possible, and to work as swiftly as we can."

_[Is that Emmerololth?]_

A voice came from within the room, and the Emissary turned and stiffened at the news. 

_[What is she saying? I can't hear it over a **fat, ornery dragon's ham-hands!**]_

Vidofnir marked the insult to be dealt with later, rumbling and flexing her tired wings as she overheard the news.

Voidsent from the Thirteenth were preparing for war.

_{I must return to Sohm Al, to warn my kin.}_

And then she was kicking off from the ground, ignoring the fatigue that plagued her and taking to the air to make her way home with all due haste.

* * *

Lahabrea was _not having a good time_. 

Once Vidofnir was gone, he had managed to roll and get his legs under him only to find himself being scooped up by a Lalafell just a little bit bigger than he was. He struggled. 

He failed, and was summarily tucked under her arm like stuffed toy.

"Mistress Tataru, please, convene in my room if such would be possible."

"Coming! Estinien, you should come too-Oof!" 

Tataru. The name of his new nemesis was _Tataru_. Lahabrea would remember that, even as he went limp and growled as the elezen stooped, scooped them both up and sprang up to the window. Tucking into a crouch, he passed through the opening easily as the white robed Ascian pushed himself up and staggered out of the way, touching down lightly once inside. 

"Explain." Came the dragoon's demand. 

"I sent Emmerololth to my abode on the moon of the Thirteenth Shard, which was rendered into a void, to recover some items for me. As she returned, she caught sight of an army, of Legions of Voidsent, gathering around a half-finished portal being constructed by those few of our kin that have yet to have their tempering removed. It is our belief that, lacking we Convocation Ascians to command, Zodiark has turned his intent towards those we raised to members of the Twelfth, Eleventh and so on and bent them to his will." The Emissary straightened and made his slow way over to the bed so that he could sit down. 

"So we're under attack?" Tataru tightened her grip around the hatchling's torso, and Lahabrea wheezed slightly. 

_[Stop! My ribs are already sore from that damnable Matron! No, we're not under attack yet, but we _ ** _will_ ** _ be.]_

"How intact are your memories, Speaker?" Elidibus looked over, studying the pale yellow scaled form that Lahabrea had woken within. "You seem... Remarkably yourself."

_[Everything. Just- Put me **down**, will you?] _Snout turning up to stare at Tataru, she blinked and then moved over to set him on the bed next to the Emissary. He got his limbs under him and tried to look as aloof as he could, though it was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was the smallest in the room. _[Thank you. As I was saying, I remember everything. I even know the purpose with which that blasted blue rock saddled me with, although to Her credit once I have done so I'm free to choose if I should wish to return to oblivion or not. It's to give what memories she gleaned from us in our deaths back to those of us that will need them. Mostly Ascians. The Warrior is one of them. An elezen is another. Before you ask, no, I don't know his name. Just that he's important to her somehow. And a stupid riddle.]_

"Do you believe it has anything to do with the current situation?" Elidibus frowned faintly, rubbing his temples.

_[I can only tell it to Eschaton. I can't even remember it until I see her, just that I know it. Which, remind me, didn't Allag make a pact with the Voidsent and didn't that portal get shut down?] _Lahabrea stared at Emmerololth, silver-gold eyes narrowing. _[And isn't this the first time that Zodiark's spoken to anyone but the Emissary since the Sundering? If it really _**_is_**_ him prompting them to do this. It reeks of incompetence.]_

"Something you would know about." The Water Bearer sneered, and the hatchling's lips peeled back from his tiny, sharp teeth in an answering snarl. "I know what I saw. They were praising Zodiark and building a portal while others rounded up more Voidsent." 

_[I wasn't exactly at my **best** nor thinking **clearly**. Tempering does that to people. Do you at least know where they plan to open the portal to, aside from somewhere on the Source?]_ Lahabrea threw back his head and laughed as she scowled, and shook her head. _[Well then, what good **are** -?]_

"Lahabrea, Emmerololth, enough. At least one of you should know better." Elidibus innocently neglected to mention just which one of them it was, and instead looked towards Tataru. "The fact of the matter is that we are soon to be attacked, and we know not where this attack will come from. I would ask that you spread the word, and make ready what defenses you can. I will do what I can to get an idea for what manner of portal they are building, and give you an estimation on how soon it will likely be prepared as well as what we may yet do to counter such. Estinien, I would advise-... Where... Did the Dragoon go?"

_[He leapt back out the window when the midget asked if we were under atta-]_

Lahabrea hissed, flailed and struggled as she scooped him up and shook him, leaving him dazed and disoriented. 

"Midget? _Midget?_ You take that _back_, you little _lizard_!"

* * *

Estinien was never much one for portals. Still, something like this seemed _important_, and so he grit his teeth and stepped through. It sounded bigger than the war with Garlemald. That meant that there were only a few qualified individuals that might be able to do anything about it. He didn't trust the white-robed individual. He had recognized him from the time the Archbishop had caused trouble, and though he couldn't have been the same individual he held himself the way Zenos had when he had struck the Warrior down. His instincts screamed at him that the white robed man was _dangerous_. 

He had long since learned to listen to such things. 

So that left the Warrior. And the Warrior, had left the Source to sort out the problems in some land called the 'First'. And the portal he had just stepped through, _went_ to the 'First'. 

He hadn't expected to step out into a vaulted room of blue crystal, nor the doors to open as a graying miqo'te pushed through them to stare at the portal in curiosity. 

"You must be... By your description, and by the weapon-"

"Take me to the Warrior of Light." The dragoon ground the words out, fingers tightening around the haft of Nidhogg. Red eyes blinked at him, before the graying miqo'te's brows furrowed. 

"I'm afraid that I can't do that, as I don't rightly know where she is at the moment. Please, whatever is the matter-?"

"Then I will find her myself." Turning and trying to find the exit, he started towards one of the doors and paused when the robed figure addressed him once more. 

"Estinien, isn't it? You are one of her many friends, a staunch supporter and ally. You saved her." The miqo'te smiled slightly as he turned, and they studied each other for a moment. "If you give me a few minutes, I may be able to find her. There are only so many places she would linger in this land."

The elezen narrowed his eyes, before gesturing for him to proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know what the answer to everything is?  
Dragons.  
There is no situation that is not made better by the application of dragons.  
Burning forest? Ice dragon.  
Need something cooked? Fire dragon.  
Need a soul reincarnated into something that can more or less fend for itself and has the ability to know how to do so moments after hatching?  
_Dragons_


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which, unsurprisingly, Lahabrea's mouth gets him into trouble.

The Warrior was a content, boneless jumble across the bed, one hand idly teasing through the contently dozing Ascian's hair as he laid partially atop her. A quiet, subtle glance confirmed it, his back sported a number of long, angry-looking red lines and she knew hers did as well from the faint sting as she shifted on the bed. A silly little grin curled the corners of her lips upwards, and she let out a quiet, happy little sigh as he stirred. Pale gold eyes slowly opened, before those _talented_ lips moved gently against her shoulder. 

"... The Exarch is attempting to scry upon you." 

"I take it you're stopping him from doing so?"

"-Please-, little Monster I can appreciate a man who likes to watch but this view is mine and mine _alone_." 

"Except when it's convenient to scar and scare people." She teased him, and he hummed and shifted so that he could nose along the side of her jaw and neck. "How long've we been gone?"

"A little more than a day. I already scared Mitron off. Shall I do the same for the littlest Tia who could?"

"Lemme see what he wants first. Where'd you send my stuff? I need my linkpearl thingy." She shifted as if to get up, but his arm across her torso tightened and anchored her against the bed. The Warrior blinked at him, searching his pouty gaze before chuckling softly. "I know, I don't want to get out've bed either. I'm _comfy_. You're _countless_ times more attractive a thought than whatever he could be trying to find me for, but I'm their Warrior of Darkness, too. If it's not important, I'll tell him to figure it out himself."

Heaving a resigned sigh, he snapped his fingers and offered the earring out to her. She grinned, clipped it into place and then tapped it. 

"Hey, Exarch, what's-?" The Warrior stilled, good humour evaporating. Emet-Selch studied her aether and then heaved an even greater sigh of resignation as he shifted to the side and then made his way to the edge of the bed, stretching idly as he continued to eavesdrop on her half of the conversation. Slowly, she sat up and tilted her head carefully from side to side, frowning. "Slow down, you're old. Start at the beginning. Okay. Estinien, yeah got that part. Look, just give him yours. Hey! Never got to say it, but thanks for the save. Okay, okay, yeah. Dragon, got it. That part's... Surprising. I didn't think he should be moving around just yet. Nah, he's on our side now. I mean, yeah, stay cautious, 'cause just 'cause anyone's on our side now doesn't mean that won't _change_. Hmm? OH, heh, yeah no, my fault that. But how'd _you_ get there? ... Oh. Well, I mean, good on him. He's sort've on our side too, for now. Ish. But yeah, dick move on his part, that. Yeah, no, I'll see what I can do. Ask the Exarch to get in touch with Thancred and Urianger, get everyone to meet in the Occular. Even the Ascians, they're with Urianger. Just 'cause they're going to the Source doesn't mean they won't come here. Yeah, I mean we only have the one stable portal between the two points but Ascians can teleport and bring people with them if they put enough oomph into it. Wait there for me? Perfect. Happy Hunting." 

She unclipped the earring from her ear and set it aside, grimacing as he quirked a brow in her direction. 

"I sort've forgot that there were more Ascians than just the Convocation members. They're doing a portal thing on the Thirteenth and getting together something of an army. Elidibus is an idiot and dragged himself to the Rising Stones and I don't quite understand why, Lahabrea's a dragon, apparently? Oh, and Zenos almost killed Gaius after hauling him and Estinien out of his dungeons because 'if you can hurt me you can go free' is apparently his thing now. I'm counting that as progress there, considering he'd've just killed them for sport otherwise."

"... Twenty nine bells. Barely more than a day and the world already teeters on the brink with your absence." The Architect tutted, pushing himself up off the bed and offering out a hand to help her do the same. She stretched and stifled a yawn, shrugging. "This really _is_ unacceptable."

"Hey now, they're not completely hopeless." 

* * *

By the time they were stepping out of the rift Emet-Selch had opened for them, everyone had gathered. Thancred, Ryne, Mitron, Urianger, Fandaniel, Lohgrif, Halmarut, Pashtarot, Estinien and the Exarch. She idly scratched the back of her neck and grimaced. 

"Alright who didn't get a basic run down." Nobody raised their hands, so she nodded and continued. "Right. Thancred, Mitron, Ryne and Fandaniel, you're team one. You lot stay here, because figuring out if our plan with Eden will work and because the Exarch might need the help if you suddenly have a bunch of refugees coming through. Just because we think they're going for the Source doesn't mean they _are_ or that they're not going to split some forces and hit the other Shards. Pashtarot, Halmarut, you two need to go and keep an eye on the other Shards, and report back to the Exarch if you notice anything void-ie going on there. If anyone can get a message through to me, it's G'raha and, subsequently, King. Lohgrif, you Estinien and Urianger, me and the Architect are going to go back through and hit the Rising Stones for information. Remember folks, buddy system saves lives and there's not a one've you that's _expendable_. Any questions?"

"Who is King?" Halmarut frowned, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. 

"King Titania. Fae lord of Il Mheg. Any other questions?" 

Nobody had any others. The Sundred bowed as one, before two of them vanished and one of them moved to flank her. The dragoon hefted Nidhogg and turned towards the portal, and Warrior shot the Exarch a thumbs up as she followed and stepped through. It was a short trip to the Rising Stones, and Tataru intercepted them with a rushed hug before pointing them upstairs to the room Gaius was in. 

Elidibus had taken a seat on a chair near the window, Emmerololth standing at his shoulder and a pale yellow dragon hatchling settled on his lap and a midnight blue chocobo standing near by. The gunblade was sitting, propped up in the chair and looking worse for wear as the Warrior entered.

"Van Baelsar! You look like shit. I heard Zenos happened. Twice. Way to beat the odds for survival." She flashed him a smile, and he managed one back. 

"Zenos is... A difficult foe. He said you had an agreement with him, and that such was behind his change in policy. He led me to believe you are to thank for my life." 

"Hey, I didn't survive the trip from Garlemald to here trying to keep up with Estinien Longlegs. You did that yourself." She ignored the way the dragoon narrowed his eyes at her, before looking towards the clump of Ascians by the window. "... I get the dragon, but why's there a chocobo in here?"

"Igeyorhm. Lahabrea recently re-awakened her, though all involved parties are running a little shy on the strength required to alter their forms." Elidibus smiled slightly, before leaning back as Emet-selch made his way over and _loomed_. 

"Emissary."

"Architect."

"I should petition to have your title changed to _Idiot_ with a capital 'i'."

"So it's true..." Gaius stared at the floor under the clustered Ascians as one Paragon harangued another. "The Founding Father was an Ascian. I hadn't wanted to believe it..."

"How can you tell?" She blinked at him, and then at the group. "I mean, besides how they're acting, 'course."

"Ascians lack shadows." He nodded towards them, and the Warrior glanced to note the utter lack of them beyond what was cast by the chair. 

"... I mean, I thought that was just 'cause Emet-Selch didn't have _legs_ but... Yeah, now that you mention it, none've them do, do they." 

"_I do too have legs!_" 

"Like that, yeah, but not the other way!" She grinned at the way the Architect rolled his eyes at her before he turned and resumed berating the tired looking, softly smiling Emissary. "Good to know, though. I feel like I might've been told that already and just sort've... Forgot. They tell you what's going on?"

"Something about more Ascians and a portal, along with an impending invasion. I should hope to have recovered enough to hunt my Prey before they arrive." Gaius lifted a hand to the bandages that swathed his torso, wincing slightly. Estinien scoffed. 

"It won't heal if you keep picking at it."

"Coming from the world's worst wound-picker." The Warrior shot the elezen a smirk, and was cuffed upside the head for her troubles. She laughed it off, giving him a shove in return that slightly rocked him on his feet. "Don't think I don't know you're hurt too. Between the healers, their magic and some time you two'll be fine in a few days tops. I'm glad the two've you started working together though. I'm serious. You've got complementing skillsets-" 

She blinked, trailing off as she watched Emet-Selch make his way across the room and fold his arms, standing in front of Estinien. For all that the elezen had height on him, the Ascian had a presence that was slowly starting to fill the room. 

"Did you just swat my _wife_."

Oh. She blinked between the two of them, and clapped a hand over her mouth as she giggled quietly. Estinien's eyes had narrowed, his nostrils were flaring and his posture had gone ram-rod straight. She dithered for a half-second on whether or not to put herself between them, before doing so. 

"Emet-Selch, I don't think the two've you have been properly introduced. This is Estinien, hunting partner, Azure Dragoon, former bearer of Nidhogg's eyes and one of the few people that can keep up with me when I start really going at it. 'S an exclusive club, that's got him, you, Zenos and a handful of others in it." She turned around, leaning back against the Architect as she grinned up at the dragoon. "Estinien! This is Emet-Selch, sorcerer of Eld, founding father of the Garlean Empire, Allagan Empire, and a whole bunch more that I never bothered to learn the names of. He's the man I've taken within the circle of my arms and heart. An alternate title for him is Architect, because he builds things. Don't let it fool you though, he'd probably give you a run for your gil if the two of you fought." 

Neither man moved, staring at the other, unblinking. She elbowed the Architect in the gut, hard. 

"How do you do." Came his stiff greeting. 

"I fare well." Was the equally stiff response as she clanked the metal toe of her boot against Estinien's. 

"Estinien's a very physical person. Gives as good as he gets, Emet-Selch. Not big on word-play, though. I met him in Ishgard. Tataru recruited him to help take out Black Rose-making buildings. He was there, when Nidhogg _ate_ me. Pulled me out've the jaws himself." _That_ made the Architect frown faintly, before he glanced down at her and recalled the puncture scars across her torso. Looking back up, he grudgingly unfolded his arms. Estinien had lowered his gaze to glare unspoken words at her as she smiled cheekily at him. "What, it's _true_. _You_ did that. I know, I know, flight or fight. Try not to go too far, alright? I owe you the cheapest, shittiest ale I can find."

And then he was gone, bounding across the room and out the window as if her words had freed him from some paralysis.

"... Never have I ever seen a man go from defensively enraged to utterly _yellow_ with the fear in his blood." Emet-Selch turned to peer out the window. "What context am I missing?"

"Swear on your title you won't go after him for it."

Everyone turned to study the two of them, before he eyed her curiously and inclined his head. "I swear he will be safe from whatever retribution I would normally muster for such things, whatever they may be, upon my title of Emet-Selch."

"Yeah, Nidhogg took over his body? So he sort've pulled me from his own jaws trying to fight the dragon, and spat me out before I could get chewed in half." The Warrior scratched the side of her face sheepishly. "Not a good time for all parties involved. He's a good kid though. Really rough around the edges, but that's part've his charm. I don't have to worry about being civilized around him, and trust me there's no freer thing than knowing you can belch around someone without them so much as giving two shits. 'Less, of course, it stinks, in which case they just move upwind." 

"Your explanation certainly sheds light on why his soul has a beastial, draconic _twist_ to it." The Architect glanced towards the window, and sighed. "Nevertheless. We returned to see what we could do."

"Not quite. Returned to set a few things into motion before going on a road trip. Done being the Thancred to the Emissary's me?" She grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Good. Gaius, I'm not the boss of you, but I'd like for you to consider working with us some more. Less against Garleans though, and more to help prepare against the attack we all know's incoming. Can you do that?" 

"I can, however Zenos may prove to be a problem." The gunblade grunted slightly, adjusting how he sat. 

"Don't you worry about him. I'm going to go and talk to him as soon as I'm done here. Urianger? I want you to work with the Emissary and Ascians to figure out how I can sunder souls out've a bloody _moon_ without waking up the primal within it. Elidibus? I dunno, open a zoo I guess." She grinned, and the white-robed Ascian chuckled softly. 

"It wouldn't be the first time, but I think I may decline for now. It will be difficult for Urianger to work with me if I am otherwise occupied. I am also working with Mistress Tataru."

"Wise. Already you seem like you're doing better than you were in front of Eden. Only took slapping you silly, I guess. See if you can get us some figures on what we're against, but also if you get yourself killed I ain't saving you again." She pressed her lips together, and gave him a _look_. He raised one hand in a bid for peace, and gestured to the area around them. 

"I will only leave this location if my very existence is at risk, Eschaton."

"Good-"

_[No kind words of concern for me then?]_ The dragon sat up, staring at the Warrior who shrugged. 

"Depends, are you gunna be a giant asshat? You're still on my shit list for possessing Thancred and killing a shit ton've people at Praetorium. What've _you_ done, to balance those scales?" She clapped her hands. "Nothing. Not yet, at least. Emet-Selch earned a modicum of forgiveness. Elidibus seems to be weathering the Test of Tataru. All the other Convocation members are actively working on it."

_[I have, though.]_

She paused at this, before quirking a brow and shrugging. "Let's hear it, then."

_[Thordan _**_hesitated_**_. Do you know why?]_ The hatchling drew himself up, puffing out his chest. _[Because of -me-. I gave my **life** so that you could slay him, and with the Primal defeated Ser Zephirin was killed as well. I directly assisted your revenge for Haurchefant.]_

The Warrior paused, eyes narrowing before making her way over. One hand came out to clamp around the hatchling's torso, lifting him with ease as her aether roiled and strands of silver flickered around her soul with a soft pulse.

"Something that only happened, because of _you_. And, by extension, because you were _tempered_. I _don't like you_, Bythos." He squeaked at his name, neck coiling as the rest of him curled to make himself seem as small as possible. "You were _spared the sundering_ because I _didn't like you_. Because I wanted you to suffer, for every little thing you did to make Emet-Selch's life difficult over the hundreds of years we were in office together. Because I wanted you to while away the long, lonely years knowing that _I chose someone else_. Because you _attacked_ my _Lovely_ and because of a hundred, tiny little things. All of these little _sins_ compacted, pre-tempering, pre-sundering and post. I wanted you to see _every little thing you had worked to build_ come crumbling down around your ears. To you, I sent my power, knowing that you could not stop even a third of me. So no, little La-Hee-Brayer. I have no kind words for you, until you have proven yourself dedicated to the cause. Do _not_ disappoint me."

She let him go, releasing him back onto the Emissary's lap as the strands of silver that outlined the shape her soul would have taken undamaged frayed and faded. She wobbled slightly, before Emet-Selch wrapped his arms around her. 

"Cheap, shitty ales, then?"

"One or two, before we go. Bar, Estinien, then Zenos." She rubbed her temples, and the Architect stooped to scoop an arm behind her knees and lift her easily. "... Eighteen seconds. Thirty might be a proper limit." 

"An apt observation." He swept them both out the door, leaving Urianger to step up and explain.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a day off to go through and do a whole bunch of side quests in game and celebrate labour day early.  
This chapter is somewhat of a 'catchup' chapter, where Gaius is largely informed as to what, exactly, is going on. Considering he's been in Garlemald (and Estinien probably didn't tell him a whole lot even after Tataru probably going over things with the dragoon) he gets to come to terms with some things.

"So. You were intent on destroying these other worlds, to restore mankind back to their original state of nigh immortality by first killing essentially everyone. However, the Warrior... Changed your minds, by cutting out the tempering of the eikon that was forcing you to do such and then inviting you to fight with her." 

Elidibus inclined his head once, politely. 

"And those of your number with red masks that I have killed, they are not truly gone?"

The Emissary nodded once more. "Correct."

"And... The Founding Father of the Garlean Empire is enamored with the Warrior of Light."

The white-hooded head bobbed amiably once more. Gaius stared for a moment, before leaning back into the pillows. 

"... Her strength is an enticing thing. I will not lie and say that she is not impressive. He is loosely immortal, however, and she is not. Theirs is a relationship doomed to despair. And yet, they still continue."

"He has loved her, from my understanding, essentially from the very moment they met. Before the Sundering. Before Zodiark. Before he was Emet-Selch and before she was Eschaton." Elidibus sipped his tea, before setting the cup down on the saucer with a quiet click. 

"Because she is a reincarnation, this... Eschaton, reborn. That was who we saw, when she grasped Lahabrea."

_[Don't -remind- me. After hearing the Emissary's tale, I think I'd like to repress that memory. I didn't know she had advanced to the point where she doesn't need white auracite to kill us.] _The hatchling shuddered, curled up on a pillow on the windowsill. The chocobo nearby chirped, nodding rapidly. 

"It was. We believe the power of her Echo, that which is meant to break down the barriers between souls, has grown stronger after her battles upon the First and now allows her to briefly tap into the memories she yet lacks. My understanding is that such is very taxing for her, however." The Emissary glanced towards Urianger, who sat on the edge of the bed. "This sums up my knowledge of current events. There are, however, many gaps that I have yet to fill with regards to her time spent on the First. You would be better equipped to answer such things."

The elezen nodded, and set his cup of tea aside on the bedside table. 

* * *

She asked the Architect to be subtle with his eavesdropping, because not only was Estinien -not- a people person, but he also had incredible senses that bordered on supernatural. As such, once she had figured out which of the gleaming, glowing crystal spires he had perched atop, she loaded her pockets with bottles and flasks and started to climb. He knew she was coming. She knew he know she was coming. Stealth wasn't something she had to factor for, only the minor fatigue that was making her eyelids droop. 

Nothing quite as invigorating as climbing sixty fulms and then looking _down_, though. So she felt her energy and strength return rapidly. Another hundred fulms to go. 

He had wedged his spear into a crack in the crystal, and sat on it like it was the top bar of a railing. As she approached, he hooked a leg around it to better anchor himself and leaned to the side, and down, offering out his hand. She took it, and he hauled her up so that she could settle next to him. A long moment passed in silence as she dug her haul out of her pockets and offered it out. 

Estinien adjusted how he was sitting so that he could bring one leg up, knee on the bar and foot on his other knee, and balanced her offerings along his armored calf. 

"Flexible as always. Cheers."

He didn't say anything, simply tapped one flask against her chosen bottle and then took a drink. It was the cheapest swill she could find. He let a faint smile curl part of his lips upwards. 

"... I'm sorry for bringing Nidhogg up like that. It was the fastest and easiest way to get him to stop being twitchy."

A grunt, and then a drink answered her. The Warrior drank as well, and looked out at the view. 

"Thank you. For looking out for them while I'm gone. It means a lot. Like, a _lot_ a lot."

"Why _him_." 

"Loaded question, that. I'd like to counter it with why _me_." She sipped her drink, before blinking as Estinien tilted his head, narrowed his eyes and quirked a brow. "What. I'm just shy of borderline _ugly_." 

"It's not about what you look like. It's about who you are. Not your title, who you are when all of that is gone." 

"So you _agree_ that I'm ugly-"

He swatted her, and she cackled as she stuffed her thumb in the neck of her bottle and was knocked forward, hanging upside down for a moment with her legs still securely clamped around the haft of the spear. "Dragons are not conventionally beautiful. They still gathered a fanatical cult following."

"Being a dragon wouldn't be so bad, y'know. Be able to fly and all that." The Warrior twisted, hauling herself right-side up and re-balancing before pulling her thumb out of the neck of the bottle and taking a sip. 

"You are to us as Hraesvelgr is to his brood, Warrior."

"Funny you should say that. Here I am likening myself to Shiva and Ysayle with the Architect taking the place of that dragon." The Warrior raked a hand back through her hair, looking thoughtful. "Words are hard, when trying to explain. My 'Shiva' isn't a physical thing. It's a... It's a fixing of myself to make me like I was long ago. At the beginning."

"What will you do if your 'Shiva' is the same as hers, Warrior." Estinien turned his head to stare at her, and she managed a small, sad smile. 

"... I'd thought of that, y'know. Twelve, I _still_ think of that. But, I've gotta try. Even all that aside I love the rat bastard. It's one've the things we've settled and don't look too closely at, any more. 'Cause if you weigh how much it matters against how much it doesn't, it sort've evens out. If I'm not really her? Then at least I could help him forget that for a little bit. If I am? Then hoo boy, that means nobody comes back exactly the same. Which, I mean, I guess they already know. He doesn't say it, but there's a clear line drawn between the Ascians who've been sundered and the ones that weren't."

The dragoon grunted, and they spent a moment quietly drinking, enjoying the view before she sighed. 

"All those moments of happiness, those teeny, tiny little things, like a handful've snow. Pack enough together, and you've got enough to hit someone in the face with it and get their attention. Bah, I'm talking to myself at this point. You asked why _him_." Stretching slightly, the Warrior drained the bottle and lowered it, squinting and thinking. "Because, like me, he's weighed down with a job neither've us asked for. Because of countless little pranks. Because he only stands at my back so he can look over my shoulder. Because he can hold his own. Because I have to worry less about him dying than others. Because he's everything I look for in a tall drink."

Estinien, furrowed his brows, blinking at her as she glanced over and laughed. 

"Sweet and fruity and sour all at once."

"Such as brandy. But you drink it straight, not mixed."

"Only 'cause I cant afford cognac, and without it mixed drinks just aren't the _same_."

The dragoon thought about it, and found himself nodding in agreement. "The expensive Sharlayan version. Such as what we pilfered in Ishgard."

"That was a hell've a thing to drink, you know. One've the best heists I've ever had the pleasure of being part of." The Warrior leaned over to elbow him in the side, grinning as he nodded. "Well, either way, you've talked a lot so I'll leave you be-"

"If he breaks your heart, I will kill him."

She blinked at Estinien, taking in the casual way he sat as if balancing half a dozen flasks and bottles along his calf while wearing dragoon armor and sitting perched atop a spear as if it was a wide, sturdy couch on a flat floor. With nothing below them for a little more than a hundred and a half fulms before the ground presented itself to welcome any foolish enough to slip, it was enough to make her chuckle and nod. 

"I believe it. You're part of my family, I'd expect no less." 

With that, she tipped forward and, with a wave, plummeted towards the ground, thumb in the neck of her bottle. A void opened up below her, Emet-Selch materializing just above it before her momentum carried them both back through. 

It closed, and the dragoon was left alone with his thoughts and his offerings.

* * *

"She defeated these... Lightwardens, and it nearly destroyed her."

Urianger nodded. 

"And this Crystal Exarch pulled her from the Source, to the First, and felled the Scions because he simply kept missing."

The elezen nodded once more. 

"... And time travel."

Urianger nodded one last time. Gaius frowned, turning over the answers to his questions. Elidibus stared thoughtfully at a patch of wall. 

"I had wondered. The Crystal Tower, however, is not capable of such a thing. Emet-Selch would have attempted to use it if it did." The Emissary lowered his gaze to the empty teacup in his hand. 

"He spoke at great length with the Exarch, and as 'tis not a current goal thus did I come to the conclusion that such is not a viable option for any of our current issues. Perhaps the cost did come to outweigh the yield." The astrologian shrugged slightly. "The topic of journeying through time is a delicate one, as we know not what hath become of yon Exarch's original timeline."

"Small wonder why she has become so strong in her time away." The gunblade set his own tea aside on the nightstand, gritting his teeth against the way it pulled at his stitches. Straightening, he folded his hands on his lap and narrowed his eyes. "She has wrought change throughout the nations of Eorzea and across to the Far East. When viewed as such, that she should turn her attention now to Garlemald and Zenos is simply the natural progression of the path of a conqueror. Though she may not see herself as such, she need only call to the lands she has traveled and a host will assemble itself at her back." 

"Thus was seen in Novrandt. After freeing the lands from the Lightwardens and driving Vauthry from Eulmore did she call to those she had saved for the building of the Talos. All answered her call, and threw themselves into their work with a passion." Urianger slowly turned his teacup, studying the dregs within. "Would that she so chose travel to Sharlayan, to convince them to share their knowledge with the world."

"With the boundless knowledge of the Ascians at her disposal to act as a bribe or bait, perhaps she will." Elidibus gave the elezen a slight smile, before slowly pushing himself up. "But it will not happen today. Regardless, the hour has grown late and, as this is the room of Gaius, not Elidibus, it would be improper for me to take my rest here." 

"Did any of thy kin have aught to do with my homeland, Emissary?" The astrologian looked over, studying the white-robed Ascian as he paused on his way to the door. 

_[I did.]_

The answer came from the hatchling that was settling atop the chocobo's back while Igeyorhm followed after Elidibus. He raised his head, snout aimed towards the elezen even as he narrowed his eyes. 

_[We all have our little quirks, our little hopes that we held on to. Emet-Selch refused to stop loving _ ** _her_ ** _. I couldn't help but try and teach you foolish, stupid worms. Elidibus... Hmm. Now there's a question. What did you do, to whittle away at the long years?]_

"Communed with Zodiark. As the Emissary, and as the only of the Convocation members that had the proper elemental affinity for it, I was the easiest that He could speak with in His sundred state. Even then, it was only after the first proper calamity that I was able to hear His voice again, beyond muddled impressions."

_[You mean to say that you never had any little pet projects?]_

The white-robed Ascian simply smiled, lifted a finger to his lips to indicate a secret, and turned to exit the room.


	63. Shocking discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the Warrior done goofs

A quick redirection of the other end of the rift had them plummeting a few feet through the air above the canopy bed in what had once been his rooms in the capital of Garlemald. They looked remarkably different, considering that was two changes of the title of 'Emperor' ago, and Zenos seemed to have taken most of his father's personal effects and simply dumped them in a corner, ignored or forgotten for the time being. The newest holder of that title sat on the edge of his bed, engaged in the idle maintenance of one of his swords, and glanced up as they slowly drifted down near by. 

"A curious surprise, Savage. 'Tis not the day yet."

"You might reconsider those words once I let you know what's going on, my friend." She gave him a crooked grin, before looking back to Emet-Selch and mouthing a silent 'Thank you', to which he rolled his eyes and made a gentle shooing motion. As she turned back to the blond swordsman, he ambled towards the pile of his grandson's effects and started to idly pick through them. "There's voidsent that are going to swarm the Source, though we dunno where they're going to pop up from. Just that they're working on it. We're not entirely sure when either, just that it's probably gunna be soon. I want to offer you a competition. Me and my blades against you and yours, and we see how many trophies we can each earn and how impressive they might be. Your cooperation, for the study of my Echo." 

"Voidsent? An invitation to a hunting competition, well now, not quite the the sport of kings but how can I refuse such an offer from my friend." Zenos matched her crooked grin with one of his own, laying the blade across his knees. 

"Speaking of, I just wanted to say I'm proud've you. You gave Gaius and Estinien a sporting chance, or so I hear. Where'd they get you?" The Warrior ambled over, head tilting curiously. 

"Van Baelsar bodily blocked my vision of the strike. It was... Cunning. Beautifully done." Leaning to the side, he hauled up the edge of his shirt to reveal a largely healed set of puncture marks. One was rather more flat than the others. "His own ally caught him across the side, drawing deep with a tine before he _got_ me. Gaius used the momentum to aid his own strike even as I cleaved downwards, pushed forward so that the meat of his shoulder instead of across his gut took the worst of it." 

She whistled lowly, nodding as she inspected the wounds. "Explains why he kept using just the one arm. Probably bled a _ton_, too. Hell've an exercise in restrain-"

She dropped abruptly down as he snapped the blade across, smirking as it whistled over her head. 

"-t, but it's something I always figured you could do. Look, Kid, even if you hit me with that it's not gunna do you any good. Don't you remember when you broke the first sword across me?" 

"I do remember. I thought it some flaw in the blade, which made it a useless and pathetic tool, if one that had served somewhat faithfully over the years. How many blows that would have felled the lesser beasts did you weather?" The sword was replaced in it's neutral position across his knees as the blond swordsman's grin widened at the memory. 

"I dunno, three? Four? Something like that." The Warrior pushed herself back up, dusting herself off. "Anyways, you wanna fight now, or do you want me to come back while we're possibly fighting voidsent?"

"An hour, if you would. The armor takes a bit to don, after all." Zenos pushed himself up, holding the blade off to one side as he glanced lazily over to the Ascian that was trying ever so hard to keep from crossing the distance and instead had taken an incredible interest in the portrait of Varis and his wife that he held in his hands. "Great-grandfather."

"Great-grandson." Came the blithe reply. The painting was set down, ever so gently. 

"There is a courtyard with a single tree that overlooks a shallow pond. You know the way?"

"-Please-, I _planted_ that tree. If nothing else, it will give me a proper vantage point." Emet-Selch waved idly, ambling towards the door. The Warrior stretched idly as she made her way across the room to join him. "An hour is more than enough time to do some sight seeing as we go. Shall we, my little Monster?"

He offered her his arm, and she took it as if she was a proper lady before they both pushed open the door and stepped out into the hall.

* * *

There were few guards patrolling the halls. It seemed by and large to be deserted beyond the necessary staff to run the place, and when Emet-Selch made a disparaging comment about the halcyon days of old when the halls fairly bustled, she snickered and leaned her head against his arm. 

"It's probably an invitation. A sort've 'hey, whoever wants to stroll in and try and off me come on in. Don't bother with the guards, they're just there for show'." 

"As much as I hate to admit it, 'tis probably more or less true. On to more important matters however, you don't _really_ think the dragoon could take me, do you?" There was a healthy dose of scorn in his voice, and she glanced up before looking thoughtful. 

"I mean, I sort've do, yeah. Have you ever seen that man _hunt_? I'm also not entirely convinced he couldn't turn physically regain Nidhogg's shape if he found a source've strength on par with an old dragon's eye. Vengeance was the old lizard's thing, and it's also something Estinien could be very good at if he gave it a go. If he couldn't do it himself, he'd find a way." She grimaced, shaking her head. "No, you'd have to take him out early in the game. And even then, he won't go down easy."

The Ascian huffed, eyes narrowing. "_You_ have never seen me fight at my full strength. I am worth at _least _you plus all your Scion friends in a proper fight. Even then, they would scatter as leaves before the wind against my might." 

"I'd like to see that, honestly. A good, proper fight against you. I wouldn't do the choppy thing 'cause that's an edge reserved for people I'm actively trying to end. I can't see you fighting straight like that, though. You're too much've a planner, so I picture it more as a lair thing. Oh! That reminds me, what's the deal with the gun? The one you shot the Exarch with." The Warrior tilted her head as Emet-Selch heaved a sigh. "I only thought've it now 'cause a lot of Garleans use them, but you said Solus learned with a sword and shield."

"T'was only a matter of time before you asked, I suppose." A flourish of his unclaimed hand produced the weapon, and he checked the safety before offering it out to her, grip-first. "Do _not_ fire it in here. 'Tis an antique, of sorts."

"Hades, everything you _own_ is basically an antique." She gripped the gun carefully, barrel pointed at the ground as she turned it this way and that. After a moment, she squinted and leaned in to inspect the grip. "Are those words? 'Aim true, Aileth'? You didn't name a _gun_ Aileth, did you?" 

"Anyone without aetheric sight would _not_ think you were joking, little Monster." The Ascian lifted his chin, ignoring the way she jostled him. 

"Oh come off it. Ever since Zenos took a swipe at me you've been tense. I made this for you, didn't I." 

"... You did. You may have preferred the bow for the silence it brought death with, but magitek and machinery_ fascinated_ you. And of _course_ I would be tense after that _brat_ took a swipe at you." Petulant, sullen, he stalked along the halls as his arm tugged her a bit more securely against his side.

"... Yeah, I mean alright. I can see how that'd put you on edge. Just 'cause I can dodge something doesn't mean I always manage to. It'd be dumb of me to be all worried for you and then say you can't worry about me. Tell you what, how about I make this time the last time Zenos and I fight over stuff like this? It'll be straight competitions or... I dunno, whatever I figure out for that moment." She leaned her head against his shoulder, turning her face to press her lips against the leather under the fringe. "I mean, sure, we'll probably spar but he'll probably stop taking whacks at me like that." 

"You plan to _let_ him kill you and stand back up in front of him. Repeatedly. While making it look as if he had 'accidentally' gotten lucky with a strike and see how long it takes him to figure it out."

"_Frighteningly_ brilliant mind behind those eyes. If I just keep beating him, he's going to just want to fight me that much more. If I show him why he's never going to win again, then-"

"-Then he has a greater chance of repeating Amandine's experiments, little Monster." Heaving a sigh, he shook his head and pulled her to one of the balconies as they came around a corner, opening the double doors to do so. "No, 'tis better the way things are set. You use it as a leash, and t'would be foolish of you to sever such a useful lead."

"Y'know, you're right, I don't think he's quite out of that lack of morality area yet." She grimaced, before blinking down at the courtyard below. "... Did... You recreate that one small pond and garden."

Innocently, Emet-selch looked up and admired the stars. She elbowed him in the side, catching his attention and a sly smirk before grinning up at him. 

"The lengths you went to, to preserve those memories is _boggling_. Where else did you make these?" 

"Oh, here and there." The Ascian leaned down enough to press a gentle kiss against her lips, before holding his hand out. "Now give it back."

"Hmm? Give what back?" She blinked at him, tilting her head as he rolled his eyes and tutted. 

"My _gun_, little Monster. Don't think I've forgotten it simply because of a mild attempt at distraction. Down the back of your _pants_ is no place for such a priceless piece of machinery." 

"Aww maaan..."

* * *

Zenos arrived, clanking up the pathway as Emet-Selch finished reassembling the long-barreled pistol. The Ascian glanced at the Warrior, who nodded and pushed herself up before he made his way to the tree and then drifted up to sit on the horizontal branch. The firearm vanished, and he waved a hand to idly ward the tree and nearby buildings against blows. 

"You're armored and armed. I'm... Armed. Your continued cooperation for a week of studying my Echo. You ready?" The Warrior drew both blades, flourishing one of them. Zenos didn't respond beyond unhitching the revolving holster for his swords and kicking the stand out, propping it up. He took a moment to pick one of the blades, drawing the one with the white-wrapped hilt. After a moment's inspection of the sword, he turned towards her and _smiled. _

It was a very specific kind of smile. Laced with anticipation, predatory, a baring of his teeth almost as his pupils dilated and his stance adjusted. It was the kind of look one would have expected a child to have when faced with their favourite thing in the world, if that favourite thing was catching grasshoppers to rip their legs and wings off. 

She matched it, and lifted one blade in a salute before dashing to the side as he swept outwards and upwards with the blade. A ripple of aether lashed out, drawing a shimmer from the wall it impacted against before he turned and swept the blade in a loosely horizontal arc to unleash a second. She dropped into a tumble under it, regaining her feet and picking up speed. Circling around her opponent, she grinned as he turned to keep her in front of him before she turned and bolted towards him, dropping practically prone as she slid and passed between his feet, kicking up the cloth that drapped low to the ground. She would have pushed herself back up, but that sword was cleaving around along the ground in an arc that _promised_ decapitation and so she simply let her momentum play out before rolling to get her feet under herself and dashing to the side. 

"Quick as always, Savage. But you'll not get my flank that _easy_." Turning back to face the Warrior, he leveled the sword at her and let his excited grin grow just a little wider even as his eyes bled to red on black. "Oh, how I have practiced and prepared and _longed_ for this..."

"Really? Well, I'm glad I've given you something to work for, at least. I suppose if warm up's done I oughta start taking this seriously too. Lemme show you a _neat trick_ I know." The Warrior held out both arms, rolling her shoulders gently before settling low to the ground, both blades raised and angled back so that the sweeping curve of both pointed the tips at her elbows. It didn't seem like a stance designed to do anything more than keep her partially turned sideways to make herself a smaller target, even as her legs braced in the event of a downward strike. She stayed like that, waiting, patiently poised, and the blond swordsman eyed her before practically sauntering over. 

The blade went up, was clutched in both hands and brought down. 

Hades could see the way the leather of her boots strained, traced the way her aether surged from the mote of red in her Blessing, and found both of his eyebrows raising as she brought up both blades to catch his great-grandson's singular one with a clank. Her knees bent slightly to cushion the blow, but then surged upwards and _shoved_. Zenos took a step back, before readjusting his grip and bringing the blade across horizontally. 

She didn't quite block that one. Instead, she leaned to the side and hopped slightly, ignoring the way steel scraped on steel as she cartwheeled sideways over the blade with her own acting as a cushion and impact point, seeming to almost lean against the blond swordsman's sword before she went over and touched down once more. The other blade came out and across, drawing a screech where it dragged against the metal of the armor Zenos was wearing. He stepped back, glancing down at the deep gouge through the breastplate, eyes widening as he re-evaluated the way she was settled back down into that partially crouched stance. 

Sheer delight crossed the blond swordsman's face, and the Ascian quietly muttered a _show off_ to himself as he watched the way the red faded and an ice blue surged through her instead. 

The red and black blade came across once more, and the Warrior braced to counter the force of the blow even as both blades went up. She almost playfully _slapped_ Zenos across the face with the flats of both blades, even as his own cut through her jacket and his sword refused to penetrate where it had thumped against her ribs. Neither of her retaliatory blows had much force between them, and the Garlean took a few steps back, eyes narrowing. 

"You... You are _trading_. Speed for strength. Strength for durability."

"Bingo! Well done. I wasn't sure you'd pick up on it." She beamed, pleased and delighted even as she settled into a neutral stance and rested the hilt of one of her twinned swords against her hip. "Was how I broke your sword that time. I threw everything I had into it, tryin' to pick myself up faster." 

"Violet to gold, crimson to teal. 'Tis a balance to it." Emet-Selch drawled from his perch, idly swinging his legs as green and blue wove through her and reset the brightness of the colours, gathering them up and letting an even amount of each bleed through her. He realized, belatedly, that she was using her sparring match with Zenos to practice and get a feel for how to draw on one aspect in greater amounts than the others in combat moreso than simply testing the blond swordsman's ability to discern what was going on.

"Enjoying the light show? I can only imagine how this looks." The Warrior settled herself back into that crouch, flourishing first one, than the other blade before largely stilling as the Ascian in the tree hummed conversationally. "This match is _mine_, though."

"Come now my friend, we've barely started." Zenos surged forward with a burst of speed that belied his larger, armored frame, and she skipped aside with both blades brought up to cushion the back-handed swipe he took at her. It gave her a bit more of a boost than the might have expected, considering she landed in the knee-deep water of the pond and floundered for a moment. He grinned at her, wading to the edge of the pond and dipping the edge of the blade into the water. She squinted at him, before cursing and trying leap out of the water. 

It was too late. Even without using the blade the ability was bound to, with the Resonant he could call the Storm no matter what sword he had in hand. Lightning lit the pond for several long seconds, until he lifted the sword and lazily swished it through the air. His grin remained as he watched her float, face-down in the pond among the few corpses of frogs, until a full minute had passed. Then, the grin faltered as disappointment started to weave through him. 

She remained still, unbreathing. 

Brow furrowing, Zenos waded into the water and leaned down to muckle onto the back of her coat to haul her limp body up before pausing and looking down at where she had abruptly embedded one of her curved blades through the line she had sheared through his armor before. 

"Seven hells Kid, I thought you'd never fall for it." Bloodshot eyes blinked at him as the Warrior rasped, and the latest Garlean Emperor heaved a resigned sigh before promptly dropping her back into the water and starting to wade out. She collapsed into a largely uncoordinated stagger, shuddering and wobbling as she tried to remain more or less upright. She managed to partially crawl, partially stumble her way out of the pond before he dipped the point of his sword back into it. "Right. So. We still goin'?" 

"You can barely stand, and I've barely a scratch. Do you yield?" The blond swordsman deftly eased the three inches of what he was surprised to realize was a blade made of cermet out of his torso, tossing it aside. 

"HAH, you're funny. D'_you_ yield?" She was rapidly sorting herself out, ice blue flooding her aether before she leveled her remaining blade at his general direction. The empty hand came up to scrub across her face, clearing the blood that was coating her mouth. "You think _that_ was a shock? Ramuh's _farts_ had more oomph-"

He didn't let her finish, pulling on the power of the Swell. It knocked her clear across the garden to slam into the shimmering barrier across the walls, and she slid down into a pile at the bottom of it. 

"I do believe this round goes to my great-grandson." Emet-Selch's nose wrinkled, and he watched as she slowly started to push herself up. "A week of study of her Echo, was it?"

"C'nn still faht!"

"Can, but should not." The Ascian dropped down out of the tree, drifting out across the space and touching down near by so that he could stoop and scoop her up as if she weighed nothing. "If there is anything you should take away from this, 'tis to be more situationally aware of your surroundings." 

"The guest wing is open." Zenos turned, sheathing his sword as he reached the revolving set of sheaths. "I shall expect you for breakfast at a respectable time, Savage."

She glowered at his back, grumbling under her breath. 

* * *

"For the life of me, I never actually thought you would _lose_."

"I forgot he could zap things! I thought that was tied to his sword!" She was sprawled across the gaudy four poster bed, staring sourly at the canopy. "He was using the red screaming push sword!"

"I suppose I could simply abscond with you. Big Bad Ascian once more acting against the Greater Good." Emet-Selch sat in the overly large armchair. 

"Nah, I got a -plan-."

"Do you? Do you really?" He quirked a brow, looking over at her as she propped herself up and beamed. "I _know_ that look. 'Tis the look that says you believe the answer to be simple."

"I could go on about how he's probably rarely been treated like a person, or about how it's -supposed- to be like, but that'd be like trying to re-train an old dog. Stupidly hard to the point where it might as well be impossible. So I'm just gunna do what I always do."

"What, improvise?" The other brow was quirked, and they both rose as if to frame the Ascian's third eye.

"I mean, sort've. You'll see." She beamed at him, and Emet-Selch didn't know whether to be concerned or not. He settled for plotting out several ways to escape a number of bad situations quickly.

* * *

Zenos was awake instantly, instincts screaming at him. He was already reaching for a blade before a pillow thwapped him upside the head, and as his Resonant kicked in he saw...

No incoming attack patterns. 

Another pillow whumped him, this time from a little bit to his right, and he swung blindly with the sword, only to freeze as a finger prodded him in the face from the other side. 

"Boop. First lesson, Kiddo. Improvised weapons that you don't actually see as weapons? Echo doesn't pick those up. Your week started seven hours ago, and it's now three bells into th'new day. Try t'keep up." 

The finger was removed, and by the time he had scrambled to turn on the lamp, she was gone.

* * *

"You play a dangerous game." The Architect folded his hands behind his back as he watched her scale the outside of the palace. It was remarkably climbable, and deliberately so. "What was that about poking large, fanged animals?"

"Expect t'get swatted if you do it repeatedly. Is it always this cold here?" She settled onto the edge of the roof, cupping her hands and blowing on her fingers. "I might have to roll the sleeves've my coat down."

"We're in northern _Ilsabard._ If it isn't snowing, something's _wrong_ or 'tis one of the two brief months of summer that we have." Emet-Selch yawned idly. "When do you plan to sleep, among all this sneaking?" 

"I'm doing a one in six cycle. In a six bell cycle, one of those is dedicated to napping."

"That... Is four hours a day." Pale gold eyes narrowed. "Correct me if I am wrong, but do mortals not require anywhere from six to eight to properly function?" 

"I did a test once. Third day was hallucinations, but physically even after the fifth I was fine. Worked it out to five hours a day, and after I- Oh yeah, I didn't tell you about that. Uhh... So, part of my blessing that I got later than the other bits supports them and makes them all work better together. And just work better in general." She waded through the snow on the roof, tucking her fingers into her scarf and looking out over the city and it's multitude of blinking lights. "If I really need to, like when I was helping Ala Mhigo against Garlemald, I can do a one in six cycle and be none the worse for wear. I just need to eat more, and since he's so _graciously_ invited me to breakfast, well... I'm gunna earn that title of 'Savage' one way or another."

The Ascian rolled his eyes. 

"What. He wanted me so he could study my echo for a week. Nothing was ever said that it had to be in a _lab_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completed dragon and moogle land quests yesterday, and if I never have to save another moogle it'll have been too soon.  
Also, I wrote some of this while playing my tuesday 5e game. I'm proud of my ability to multitask.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uhh... The general height I could find for Zenos was like, 6'10.  
He's -huge- o.o  
Short chapter because... Well, work's actually picked up so I have to actually -do things- while here

By the third day Zenos was starting to catch a pattern to her actions. Four times a day, at seemingly random points, she would invariably pop up and _do_ something. For example, while he was working his way through some stunningly _boring_ paperwork she had seemingly materialized out of thin air and started to pelt him with apples. He caught and swatted them back at her, engaging in a small game of 'hot potato' (or in this case, apple) where they passed anywhere from one to six pieces of fruit through the air back and forth at a time. They spoke of the way the body naturally did all the math needed to be able to catch them, and she casually plucked one out of the air to eat between words and he did the same, both of them lobbing the rest of the apples between them with one hand.

She said the lesson for that one was increased reflexes, and that there was another lesson mixed in with that one should he care to think about it. Other than that, it was idle conversation, and he knew she was taking the time to get to know him a little better. His _friend_, asking if the colour of his armor held _meaning_. 

It took another day for him to be able to discern why she was approaching him only periodically. Normally, such things were beneath him but one of the reports about the Eorzean lines in their little 'stalemate' had been _late_, and that was just unacceptable. He went in person to investigate, and realized immediately why it had been. 

The Recon department was hot on the trail of something they called the 'Ghost' who was going around _helping_ citizens. Helping _non_ citizens. Helping everyone and anyone so long as it didn't include subjugation. Nothing expensive had been sabotaged and apparently _someone_ had fixed the piping in the building because the leak in the men's bathroom had somehow gotten fixed. 

Oh, but the list of things being _stolen_ and redistributed was through the roof. Halves of people's lunches. Pens. Uniforms swapped and stolen and to date sixteen counts of people trying to sneak naked through the halls because after they exited the showers, they had realized their clothes were just _gone_. Sugar had been swapped with salt. Salt had been swapped with sugar, which was less of an emergency. Lightbulbs were missing, rendering everything dim. The sink in the break room was just... Gone. It had been found a few hours later in a janitorial closet. 

It was _chaos_. 

He spent the entire afternoon carefully reading over the various reports on what were undoubtedly her activities before some manner of carnival music started to play over the alarum system, and didn't bother to stifle his laugh. She was making them _run_, playing with her proverbial food like a coeurl. Setting the reports aside, he made his way to the source of the commotion at a nearby intersection of two roads and tilted his head, peering upwards at the teetering tower of stacked desks and chairs. There, at the very top, sat his desk chair. 

And in that chair, sat his Beast. 

"Somewhere in one of the nearby buildings sits a wrapped package! Within that package waits a pleasant surprise! To the Victor go the spoils, the pleasure and the prize. Listen with your 'vibrant ringing' and don't look with your eyes!"

The Warrior kicked the chair back, rolling off the top-most platform and vaulting off and landing on a nearby roof and taking off cackling into the night. 

* * *

"Geeze, you'd think I'd planted a bomb somewhere." She grinned, mostly to herself as they watched the Garleans below milling about like an anthill that had been kicked. Zenos stood still amid them all, looking somewhat thoughtful. "C'mon, Kid. You're _smart_. If your Resonant's really like my Echo you should be able to sense what way to go."

"'Tis still possible that his Resonant is dissimilar from your Echo in this." Emet-Selch, her horizontal, floating mobile platform and vantage point as she remained draped along his chest and legs, folded his hands behind his head and watched the stars. "For example, I've never had this ability to instinctively know what direction I should go in to find something." 

"He's smart enough to realize that my Echo can, if nothing else, and I still fulfill my end've the bargain and teach him a bit about it. Op, he's started to move. Hey, lookit that, he's even going the right way." She shifted atop him, and he quirked a brow as she peered downwards over his shoulder, craning her neck and gripping the front of his coat with one hand. 

The Ascian huffed, before grumbling and settling one hand on her hip, partially for the physical contact and partially to make sure she didn't accidentally fall off while she tracked the current Garlean Emperor's progress. "You _owe_ me, by the way, for fielding that linkpearl call. I almost prefer Thancred's brand of _acrid_ to that lalafell receptionist's proverbial lashing."

"I really do. So what'cha want? Oh yeah, do you have a way to talk with the other Ascians at long ranges?" She shifted, peering at him curiously before frowning as he hummed and closed his eyes. 

"Let me think on such for a moment, little Monster. Long ranges? Talk would not quite be the term I would use. At a range, I can get their attention. Within a certain distance we can convey emotions. 'Tis akin to fireworks, in that I can signal to the others but only in vague, pre-determined ways. Fear, rage, joy, any powerfully felt emotion can be projected and remain visible at quite a distance by your standards. Well now, looks as though he found your little gift."

"Think he'll like it?" She beamed, shifting again to peck a quick kiss against the Ascian's lips.

"Honestly? I have no idea."

* * *

Considering they were an imperialistically inclined nation that was technically still at war, Garlemald had very little to do to prepare for whatever voidsent were incoming. The increased state of awareness that the Warrior's pranks had forced everyone into only helped, considering people were stepping twice as carefully, never going anywhere alone. She would have thought that they would have started becoming paranoid, but it seemed that they were more worried about Zenos suddenly cutting them down than the circulating notices of what to watch out for regarding voidsent. 

For all that her mischief was aggravating and irritating some, there was a larger and ever increasing number of others who were starting to stifle snickers at the 'misfortune' that would befall those who were particularly cruel. Of course, that made those that were suffering for their temperament only _worse_, and soon enough a list of names appeared on the Emperor's desk. 

"Time for another 'lesson' already?" Zenos glanced up to the vent as it swung closed, Garlean long coat draped over his shoulders as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out. He wasn't wearing his armor, instead dressed in the finery and regalia he had found only slightly more comfortable. The Warrior scaled down the wall and dusted herself off. 

"Not quite. Garlemald is uniquely suited to churning out people like those I've listed. I'm not saying that overall moral would increase if you made a brute squad and shuffled them into it while replacing them with promotions within the ranks, but I -am- saying that it was a lot've hard work, writing all those names down." 

"I see, not only determined to 'fix' me so that I better suit the standards of Eorzean softness and weakness, but my country as well." The Emperor drawled, stretching his arms out in front of him and idly flexing his fingers around the pen he held.

"If you wanna see it that way, by all means. I was under the impression you barely cared about Garlemald, honestly." The Warrior ambled over to the desk, idly inspecting the papers and reading them upside down. "Prisoner relocations? _Huh._ But nah, people that like each other - or at least tolerate each other - tend to work better. Eorzea's got it's brutes too, don't forget. You're smart, you just have a top down view instead of one that's bottom's up. Pun intended."

"Enough, Savage. You wish to influence the way I rule? You know the terms of our agreement. Fight me for the right."

"Deal. You've got your gift sitting around here somewhere, right?" She peered around, quirking a brow as he narrowed his eyes, looked puzzled and then pulled open a drawer in his desk. Withdrawing the small box, he laid it out atop some of the paperwork and she beamed at him. "Perfect! Hoo boy, I hope you're ready to throw down." 

"... Cards. You wish our next battle to be with _cards_." 

"It's called Triple Triad! Here, lemme give you the run down on how it works. I'm sure you're enough've a _strategist_ that you can beat me easy." She grinned at him, all teeth. 

He lost thirteen rounds in a row, even with them swapping their hands to prove that it wasn't the cards themselves, and he quite seriously considered banning it from Garlemald entirely. Instead, he demanded a rematch the next day, and threw himself into research of this frustrating game and that she use the exact same cards. She beamed, agreed, and the next day at lunch he only lost _nine_ rounds, and won _three_. He stalked into the throne room, demanded whomever _could_ play also face her, and she soundly trounced each and every one of them. 

In the end, he agreed to her proposal so long as they could spar_ properly_, and she seemed positively delighted by it. They danced for two hours, no Resonant, no redistribution of her Echo, no fancy abilities. Simply physical might against physical might. 

He _hated_ Triple Triad. But it was a challenge he had yet to conquer, and so he set himself to the task with a _vengeance _for all that it was a stupid card game.

"... Have _you_ ever beaten her at it?" Zenos leaned against the railing some time later, staring down into the common room of the bar from one of the viewing areas above and watching the way she cackled and scooped the handful of gil she had won towards her, another Garlean soldier beaten. Emet-Selch hummed and glanced up from the paper he was reading, quirking a brow. 

"At Triple Triad? -Please-, I know better than to even _try_. She has always been _remarkably_ good at it, but this reincarnation of hers was raised in Limsa Lominsa. 'Tis a reason the term is 'Card Shark', despite being widely popular across Eorzea. I would tell you to quit while you're ahead, Boy, but from my understanding personally you stand at an incredible seven wins - when you include the efforts of your Honour Guard - and twenty three personal losses without." The Ascian smirked, smug and turning back to his reading. "If nothing else, however, you can very clearly see how intense the game can get. Even you find yourself exulting in a win as if it was a fresh _kill_."

The Emperor grunted, turning to look back down as she made her way to the counter and used her winnings to pay for a round for everyone, standing on a table and lifting a bottle before faltering as the crack of a shot rang out. Glancing down at her chest with a baffled expression, she felt along the hole in her jacket and then lowered the drink to take a slow, measured sip. All eyes turned from her to the Pilus that held a rifle in his hands. 

"She is the _enemy_! The Eikon-Slayer, and you're... You're _drinking_ with her! I'll have you all on fraternization with the _enemy_ and-"

Zenos vaulted over the railing and dropped with a heavy thud that commanded the attention in the room. Straightening, he turned and made his way over to the Garlean that was staring at him with wide eyes and starting to shake. He didn't say anything, but then again he didn't have to as he reached out and pulled the rifle out of the nerveless fingers of the Pilus he towered over. Casually, he bent the weapon into a circle, and hung it around the Garlean's neck before turning back to study the Warrior. She beamed at him, ignoring the way she had been shot, delighted and proud of his restraint. 

By the end of the week, after several long, bloody matches between them and numerous smaller, bloodless ones where he managed to average almost as many wins as losses the Warrior of Light secured a proper cease-fire and the order was given to recall the Garlean troops. She promised to visit more often, because really she'd had a hell've a good time while there and waved as she stepped through the rift that Emet-Selch opened up for them. They stepped out into her room in the Rising Stones, and she stretched with a wide yawn. 

"Twelve, living off a one in six's _shit_ when it comes to the long run. Snacks, then naps. How's that sound?" She glanced over at where the Ascian was staring at a wall with a faint frown, and came over to gently nudge his arm. "Hey, what's your boggle?"

"Elidibus. Something happened while we were away. He managed to partially heal, however he seems to have somehow gotten himself _injured_ again." Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes, before tilting his head to the side. "There is a residue of void-based aether in the air, along with ice. Everyone you care about appears to be alive, however."

"Best way to get answers is to ask questions." She grinned tiredly, and made her way to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might take a little bit of a break to catch up on RL stuff that I've fallen behind on. Like laundry. And buying food.  
Adulting is -hard-.  
Also, if anyone's interested (i know at least one person said they'd read it) I finished uploading the ff7 fic to ao3. All I ask is that, if you read it, be gentle. It was me dipping my toe into the water with a one-shot that exploded out and sucked me down into the depths.


	65. Chapter 65

There were pros and cons to having an elemental affinity. On one hand, it made any spells of a similar alignment easier to cast. They hit harder, worked better, and cost less. On the other hand, slapping, say, water with more water didn't tend to work nearly as well as using an element it was weak against. Again, for example, slapping water with ice. Fire could also run counter, in that it could evaporate it. Oh, it was _possible_, but simply... Not the best option. 

It was also easier for those in tune with one elemental aspect of aether over another to sense whatever it was that they resonated best with. To continue using the example of water, Emmerololth would have little to no difficulty finding a good spot to dig a well because she would simply have to turn and point to wherever she felt the nearest source of it might be. Easy to do, and something that came naturally to them all even with the added layer of void that they all still retained. 

For Elidibus, who had always been predisposed towards darkness-based aether, that extra layer of void was the equivalent to coffee for an overworked desk jockey. It had empowered him far more than the others, cemented his link between Zodiark and had immediately shot to the number one position of 'most powerful'. They had all tended to heed his advice, considering in the Eschaton's absence his job was to maintain diplomatic relations between the Convocation members as well as act as the voice of the city when visiting others or being visited. After Zodiark, they had all been left with little choice not to. Except, of course, for Lahabrea and Emet-Selch. One was the Speaker, who true to his name had quite a few things to say of varying opinions and the other was... Well, Emet-Selch. The Architect, who generally preferred to be left alone to play with his projects and who's proverbial feathers got ruffled whenever someone looked at something he was working on that was as of yet incomplete. 

The Emissary was loathe to bring his full power to bear at any given moment, preferring to hoard it away for when he might need it the most because you never knew exactly when it might be needed. Such had served him well when it came to overall survival. It had meant that when Zenos came to reclaim his body that while he had lost his grip on it, he wasn't any real danger despite how he had hammed it up. The newest Garlean Emperor, after all, for all that he was powerful was only a _fragmented soul_. Elidibus had thus slithered out after a meager resistance and let the boy deal with the Empire. It freed him up to work on other projects, and increased the odds that, if they ever needed to fight in the future, the Emissary would be underestimated. 

How different his circumstances, now that he lacked his tempering and had been mutilated, restored, burned by the light had was now trying earnestly to recover as quickly as he could. The First would have been a _horrible_ place for him to recover, suffused with light-based aether as it was. Even there, within the Rising Stones, he hadn't started to truly heal until Igeyorhm had been found and subsequently awakened by Lahabrea. The gears of the formerly well-oiled machine that had been the Convocation were beginning to gather and turn properly, with those best suited for support working to do so. 

There simply wasn't enough _time_, however. Too many things were happening too quickly. Where he was far more used to planning over the course of a decade or so. Used to having all the time in the world, slowly teasing the acceleration of his plans to bring about the Ardor. It felt like he had been tempered yesterday, and now he was trying to compensate and keep up with the dizzying whirlwind that the Warrior spun everything into simply by existing. 

He wondered how Emet-Selch managed it. It looked so easy, so _natural_ for him, but the Emissary supposed if anyone had practice at keeping up with the short-lived mortal races, it_ would_ be the Architect that had lived countless of their lives. Always tinkering with his work, tweaking things here and there, he had remarked once that it was easier to do so from inside because then it was easier to see where the problems were. 

And oh, were there _problems_. 

He waited until Lahabrea was distracted with Tataru. He _waited_ until Emmerololth and Igeyorhm were just outside of town, reshaping the latter's body until it was a proper vessel. He _**waited**_ until he felt the oppressive flicker of attention and watchfulness from the far removed Emet-Selch had finally eased up. 

The Emissary slipped away, heading for the Thirteenth Shard. 

It was like a balm across his soul, and he already felt stronger simply for having reached the edge of the void-tainted space. Energized, invigorated, he basked and soaked as much of the ambient aether as he could, letting it suffuse him while he drifted. It accelerated his rate of healing, giving his ragged aether smoother lines and soothing much of the pain the way a hot bath would ease away the aches of the day. If he could have, he would have spent a year drifting, content, healing. But no. Elidibus had a job to do. Two, actually. 

The first was the one he considered more important. He made his way to the moon, found one of the vessels he had pre-prepared eons ago, and opened black eyes that were shot through with streaks of red. After that, it was easy enough to push himself up and begin packing his belongings. Everything essential, everything important. Such was part of why he had sent Emmerololth to collect a few things; he had quickly come to the conclusion that keeping his effects that close to the Primal he had, effectively, chosen to betray was... A very bad idea. 

He could already feel the quiet thrum as the fragment tried to reach for him. As tempting as it was, he avoided the lower reaches of the complex he had dug out to better commune with Zodiark and instead focused on what, exactly, it had felt like for the Eschaton to cleave into him. That remembered pain was a fine refute to the subtle touch of the slumbering god. 

He _learned_ from his mistakes. Sometimes. Most of the time. What he was doing right then, was _not_ a mistake, it was a necessity. Sending the Water Bearer had been a test to see how Zodiark would react to someone that close whom had once followed him, and seeing as she had returned none the wiser and none the worse for wear... Well, it meant that the primal hadn't bothered to try and re-temper her. Or, hopefully, couldn't. It was his belief that while it could reach and tempt, only direct contact would allow such a transference of aether from the weakened fragment. The Emissary worked quickly, soul coiled tightly to focus on blocking out external influences and where he walked, only empty halls remained. 

Still, he was _reluctant_ to leave. As he stepped out of the cathedral, he hesitated and turned back, staring at the stark building, but no. Shaking his head, he knew that it was only a longing for the familiarity of the past and the tempting call of something doomed to End that resounded through him. One more job to do, and then back to the Rising Stones stronger for his efforts. A glance towards the Thirteenth shard had him stepping easily through the void as if it was just another doorway in a house. 

Elidibus could feel practically the entire Star, with how saturated it was. That close, he could tell immediately how many and how powerful or weak the various voidsent were. He could easily pick out where the lesser Ascians had congregated. Most importantly, he could _hide_, his own aether blending in nigh seamlessly with his surroundings, just another patch of the darkness that suffused the land. In this manner, he was able to approach the portal and truly get a feel for how long it would be until it was completed. Even if he couldn't, he could relay what he saw to the Architect, who was far more familiar with the technical aspects of such things. In fact, if he didn't know better, he would have said that this portal looked like Emet-Selch's own handiwork. 

Hmm. 

The thought that the Architect would _deliberately_ do something like this, when it would run distinctly counter to the Eschaton's wishes was utterly absurd considering the levels of faithful devotion that had divided his loyalties between the concept of the Botanist and Zodiark. That left scavenged or recreated. Or, perhaps,this was an older scheme of his that was only just now kicking in. But it wasnt' like him to _forget_, and part of what had irked Elidibus so was that once Emet-Selch had lost his tempering he had gone around sabotaging practically every plan he had ever had a hand in, wiping the slate more or less clean and uprooting _centuries_ of work done for moments that now would never come to pass. 

Perhaps he had missed one. When people were in love, they invariably made mistakes, distracted as they were. He knew well what that was like, though such was buried under long-standing professionalism.

Another several long moments spent studying the portal passed, before he started searching the area around the site, trying to gather clues. Bits of conversation here and there drifted to his ears as he subtly wove his way through the scattered building materials and crept closer to the cluster of Ascians that were chatting among themselves. They were gathered, Elidibus realized, around a set of _blueprints_. How they had gotten it was a matter for another time. One of the Ascians was rolling them up, and if they sent it away the Emissary would _never_ be able to find it. 

Oh, but the Architect was going to scold him if he managed to pull it off. Elidibus squashed any Eschaton-related thoughts, and abruptly materialized with all the speed he could muster, snatching the blueprints right out of the tempered Sundered's hand. He startled them, clearly, considering the way they all recoiled, and that gave him precious seconds to stuff it up one sleeve and reach, tearing through the void and stepping out across the tainted Shard. It bought him the time he needed, once he had stepped out, to send the blueprints into the same non-space he had sent the rest of his belongings before he had to turn and defend himself from the incoming onslaught. 

He was Unsundered. He was weakened, he was healing, he was empowered by the ambient aether and outnumbered twelve to one. Briefly, he was reminded of a similar situation less than a century ago, and focused on weaving his shields stronger even as he reached with his other hand and tried to open a rift. 

Half of them jumped on it as it formed, and it snapped shut with enough force to make him re-think his strategy. Time for one of his backup plans. 

Turning, he pushed -out- with his shields to buy himself space and force them to adjust their positions as it physically bashed into a number of them before turning and abruptly running. It was harder for them to hit him as he physically zigged and zagged, dodging and re-forming the flickering barrier of inky black and splitting his focus. He had another vessel still on the moon of that Shard. An ever so slight tickle of a connection, and he was turning, feigning weakness, feigning surrender.

The sundered Ascians gathered around him, and he fought the urge to smirk as he first tried to open a rift beneath himself (a diversion) and then immediately threw his focus into shedding the vessel he was currently within while they jumped on his attempt to 'escape'. 

Black eyes laced with red opened on the moon, and he rolled and dropped into the next rift he opened just as the sundered Ascians began to arrive, hot on his trail. 

* * *

Lahabrea stared moodily at the mirror Tataru had set up in front of him, hating what his existence had come to. There was a large bow perched on his head, though the sweet meats he was being provided with as they sat in the common room of the Rising Stones were, begrudgingly, _okay_. The body he had been reborn into was proving difficult to re-build. It resisted his attempts to alter it, and so he had set the task aside for later. However, that meant that in the meantime the _runty_ lalafell had taken to hauling him around. Any of his protests were met with a scowl and a swat as she reminded him that the only reason he had been allowed to stay was that the Warrior of Light had said it was okay. He had the best chance of earning her forgiveness if he cooperated. 

Bows it was, as much as it rankled his pride. At least they weren't _pink_. Instead, they were a soft, baby blue. He just had to keep counselling himself that patience was key here. He'd outlive the lumpy _potato_ if it was the last thing he did, and that meant not getting sundered and cleaved into pieces by an angry Eschaton. He was just lifting another chunk of fish to his lips (sushi, he reminded himself) before he felt Elidibus come tearing abruptly through the void a few feet away. The Emissary touched down, staggered slightly, and snapped his masked face towards the Speaker. 

"Incoming."

Lahabrea _hissed_, and the temperature in the room plummeted. Where the appearance of the Emissary had drawn glances and murmurs, the sudden frost that was beginning to line surfaces drew shouts of alarm. Doubly so when another rift opened and six of the lesser Ascians burst through. 

Fire erupted through the room, though largely harmlessly as the Speaker flared his wings and hauled walls up between the explosive spells and the stupid, _weak_ mortals that were in the room. Aether flaring, he felt the response from Emmerololth and Igeyorhm as they startled and immediately entered the room to start evacuating the fragmented souls that were bound to get caught in the crossfire. 

Six on two. For all that Elidibus was still recovering, he had essentially glutted himself on the void-based aether on the Thirteenth. Lahabrea was uninjured, rested, and just _itching_ to take his frustrations out on an easy target. Elidibus sidestepped behind one of the walls and focused on shutting down the portals even as the Speaker snarled. Each of the walls shifted minutely, before pieces chunked off and sharpened, launching out in a barrage that punctured the hastily-raised shields of two. They didn't puncture as deep as he would have liked, so he _applied_ himself with the next barrage, sending them on the defensive.

"Lahabrea! Six more approach, due to come down outside! Your greater strength will allow you to defend a wider area!"

He didn't like it, but that didn't mean that the Emissary wasn't _right_. Six largely confined to one room was _easy_, whereas Revenant's Toll was home to a number of souls. He snarled, snapped his jaws around the feather on Tataru's hat, and dropped them both through a void that opened up outside the building. To her credit, she didn't protest and instead ran towards where the other two untempered Ascians were ushering people to head towards the aetherite with him perched atop her head. 

He looked up, closed his eyes, and _focused_. 

* * *

The ice walls remained, and he used them to the fullest. First, Elidibus crouched down and sketched a quick mark against the floor, establishing a loose tether with that point before he dashed out across the floor to another proverbial bunker. Fire and lightning reached out for him, but by then he was already taking cover and marking another rune, for the moment ignoring the way some of their number had stepped through the void to surround him. 

He could have _laughed_. Instead, he let a small smile curl his lips upwards before he struck. One hand went down and then gestured upwards, tendrils of darkness snapping up to sink into the aether of one of the invaders before retreating just as quickly as they had struck, coming up behind him with a sweep of his arm and slamming another into an ice wall, pressing and pinning them there, wrapping around their aether and squeezing. Ignoring the patch of darkness that had spawned around his feet (_really_, it was like they didn't know who they were dealing with) and the subsequent _tickle_ of it against his physical and ethereal forms, the Emissary flicked one hand up and twitched it slightly from side to side as he neatly diverted the cascades of fire and lightning off to either side. 

The Ascian in his grasp struggled, before Elidibus tightened his aether and debated the pros and cons of killing them. On one hand, he reflected, killing them meant one fewer enemy and was in self defense. They had made the mistake of following him after all. On the other hand, Eschaton had spared _him_. Did they deserve any less?

"I offer to you all the opportunity to surrender." The Emissary smiled softly, before his form lurched, hit from behind by a wave of darkness that did little more than slightly displace him from the rune he had settled atop. 

"You were the _best_ of us, Heretic!" came the answer, and he turned and swatted aside with his raised hand to knock the closest enemy away. Ahh yes, _fanaticism_. He had neglected to factor that in. Stepping securely back over the rune, Elidibus spun and swept the hand he had kept directed at the pinned Ascian out, bodily throwing his partially crushed captive into another and drawing in a breath. Leaning forward, he let his jaw hang down and exhaled a cloud of choking, smothering darkness that filled the room. 

It blinded the invaders on multiple levels. Physically, they were unable to see through the utter absence of light, and when they reached out with their aether all they could feel was _him_. Meanwhile, to the Emissary, everything became crystal clear. One of them swung blindly, and the building shook at the impact as he watched and privately enjoyed the show. A twitch of his aether as it suffused the room, and they were turning, trying to find him _there_, and then _there_, an easily recognizable pattern of movement that led one of them to attack another.

And then another. He increased the chaos by utilizing stinging stabs that added splintered, agitated fragments of his own self to their aether, small venomous strikes that bled them. Keeping them turning, keeping them lashing out, Elidibus watched as the panic built and smiled softly all the while. 

* * *

Outside, it had begun to _snow_. 

Gently, at first, clouds forming above and gradually choking out the sunlight that tried to penetrate through. The temperature continued to plummet, and Emmerololth wove a shield of water around the mass of people huddled around the aetherite, excluding their area from the frost that was beginning to creep along as Igeyorhm systematically closed portals before they could properly form. Lahabrea periodically threw some of his strength behind her efforts, considering there were anywhere from one to four enemies trying at a time. She was a Convocation member, however, and possessed a strength of her own. 

The snow thickened, drifting down quietly. 

Eyes remaining closed, the Speaker let the silence spread until his awareness was wrapped around all of Revenant's Toll. He could feel the enemies at the edges of his senses, and while he could have expanded them, he chose not to. No, for something like this, where warm bodies huddled in their buildings and frost crept in under the doors, he would need all of his focus to avoid sapping the life-giving heat from the foolish, fragmented _things_ he was trying to protect. It wouldn't do to kill them, after all. 

Not with the Eschaton's sword hanging over his head. If he could avoid _that_, he would. He didn't want to even want to think about what Elidibus must have felt, being cleaved into like that. 

Each and every individual outside of the Emmerololth's bubble that was mentally marked as 'do not kill' had a perfect circle of frost around them, and he caught the reflected expressions as he shifted his consciousness about. Confusion. Caution. Terror. Awe. One child reached down to poke at the frost, and he ignored the tiny feeling of heat as skin met _cold_. 

_There_, a disturbance of unaccounted for warmth, as a void rift opened. The drifting, swirling snow sharpened and rocketed through the air to perforate through the vessel that fell to the ground with a thud. A crimson flower bloomed again the white-blue that coated the ground, and the invader's aether dispersed as they died. 

One down. Reportedly, five to go.

* * *

He couldn't stop them from retreating. Not all of them, not all at once as they finally found and confirmed the allegiance of those they were now huddled with. Together, four threw their efforts into tearing open a rift as the other two warded them with shields. It minorly irked the Emissary that if he had been stronger, he would have been able to stop them but instead he struck out, punctured through and struck one of them deeply before they disappeared. 

The darkness in the room dispersed, aether pulled back and re-purposed before he stepped carefully over to the door and pulled it open, making his way towards the ice-coated dome that covered the aetherite only to pause and turn as a body hit the ground heavily nearby. A quick search turned up two more, and he crouched near the groaning, gasping form as he watched the aether twist and turn inwards, trying to keep the body from expiring and coiling tightly around the tendrils of Zodiark's aether that were wound around their heart. 

"How did you get a set of the Architect's blueprints?" Elidibus kept his voice soft, mild as he reached and gently turned the body over. They - _She_, not that it truly mattered beyond a preference for vessels, simply rasped out a pained laugh. 

"You think... You think so little of us... All of you, think... Just so little of us..." She smiled, pained and clinging to life even as she tucked a hand over her heart. Her smile grew, and be blinked before surging backwards as her aether coiled, tickled the strands of Zodiark's Blessing wound through her being, and _burst_. The Emissary was too close to get out of the way, and as the initial blast subsided to leave a lingering haze he staggered and did a quick check of himself. 

_ **<<My faithful... My beautiful, poised, greatest of my Servants... Finally, I have ** _ _ **found you.>>** _

"Igeyorhm." Elidibus did _not_ panic at the voice that sounded oh so much like his own. He was too old, and even weakened had more than enough will power to keep his wits about him. Instead, he very carefully made his way over to the vanishing wall of ice and water and fighting the urge to _go, flee, return_ that thrummed through him. The blue-haired Ascian reached out, catching his hands in her own and he didn't even flinch as she wove the pieces of his soul in such a manner that the splinters and shards of tempering that had scattered in a nova outwards with the blast were now trying to work their way out, instead of further in. She frowned at him, wincing and studying what she could sense and see. 

"... They're barbed, Sir."

"Then _cut them out_, Whisperer." His tone was idle, mild, and he even managed a smile as she nodded and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all want for a 300 kudos mark prompt!  
Otherwise I think I'm down to average one chapter a day  
^.^


	66. Chapter 66

Elidibus idly steepled his fingers as he reclined on the bed, quite enjoying the warmth of the sun as it streamed in through his window. Internally, he was counting, trying to determine how long it would take Emet-Selch to storm into his room. As such, he was surprised when he felt the open, cracked aether of the Warrior skitter across the outside of the building and disturb his sunlight as she came in through the window. Blinking both eyes open, he idly started to prop himself up until she skipped over and bodily sat on his chest to keep him flat. 

His ribs protested, but it was a minor matter to simply reinforce himself as he grunted with the impact. 

"So. So so _so._ Emet-Selch says you did something stupid." 

"I took a calculated risk that befit the situation. Considering the negligible amount of damage I took, it was well worth it." There wasn't anywhere polite to put his hands, so he simply kept them at his sides, one trapped under her legs. 

"I dunno, it's starting to sound like - Architect, I swear if you don't stop eavesdropping right now I'ma steal your skirts! I got this, alright? There we go - It's starting to sound like you're throwing yourself willy nilly into danger, like I do." She turned her masked face towards him, grinning cheekily as Emet-Selch's lurking presence faded. The Emissary was mildly surprised to find the other's attention settling on Lahabrea and the two sundered Convocation members downstairs, but filed that information away for a later date. "'Cause I'm not gunna lie, boy the risks I take _are_ calculated, but man am I bad at _math_."

"If your intent is to chide me, you are doing a terrible job of it." Elidibus answered her grin with a small smile of his own, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You are Eschaton. A creature of instinct, more so than anything else." 

"I mean, true. Math's what I've got everyone else for. It's my job to run into a room screaming and flailing and drawing attention. You didn't give off the feel like you _want _to die, so it's not that." The Warrior's head tilted in mimicry of his own, peering down at him and humming quietly.

"You can tell these things, then?" A brow was quirked, hidden by his mask, and she shrugged. 

"Emet-Selch wanted to, in his recreation of Amaurot. I dunno if it was just 'cause he was torn between Eschaton and Zodiark and it was tearing him apart, but I had a whole extra second to get to him that I shouldn't've. He could've glanced at the Exarch, but he bodily turned and gave me his back. And I _know_ he can put shields behind him." She stretched, before humming. "... I know you, don't I."

"You are Eschaton. We worked together-"

She covered his mouth with a hand, staring down at him with narrowing eyes. "That's not what I meant and you _know_ it. I've met you before, in this life. Every lie and diversion and twisted truth you spit, I'ma punch you in the _balls_."

He blinked at that, and as she removed her hand he simply remained silent. 

"... Y'know I really should've thought about the loophole of saying nothing at all." Exasperated, she raked a hand back through her messy hair and rolled her eyes at the amused smile he gave her. "I'm going to find out, one way or another. There's _patterns_. You're a hell've a liar. The more I watch you, the more I note the way you hold yourself and the more there's a familiarity to how you do the little smiles. I can't find a match to how you talk though, and it's _bugging_ me." 

"An... Interesting tangent. Were you not here-?" He grunted as she snapped a hand down, his body reflexively curling at the pain that spread outwards. "... Please don't."

"It wouldn't convince you t'stop putting yourself in danger. Nothing I can do about the choices you make except accept them and try and keep you on your feet." She folded her hands on her lap as he shifted his free arm and tucked a hand over his covered tenders in the hopes that next time he might be able to stop her. Almost idly, he smoothed his robes as he did, giving her something of a pained smile while she continued to talk. "So I figure I'd use the time better. It's your life, and you get to choose how you spend it..."

The Warrior trailed off, eyes widening. Slowly, she looked back over at him and then reached for the pillow, starting to whump him across the face with it. He flinched, twisting and turning his face away even as he worked his trapped arm free and tried to use it to fend off her non-lethal attack. 

"You! You made me _forget_ you! You son've a _bitch_!"

"Priscilla-"

She turned and used both hands to stuff the pillow over his face, pressing down as she scowled and only relenting when he tucked a hand against her side and gently tickled his fingers back and forth, sending her shouting and squirming to get away from him instead. He did likewise, hissing quietly as he shifted to the opposite side of the bed and wincing slightly. 

"Bag've _dicks!_ Y'know I only realized I'd forgotten you when Zenos mentioned reports about us!" She turned, throwing the pillow at him and then glowering at the Ascian as he caught it and slowly lowered it. "I've got so many questions now."

"You weren't supposed to know." Elidibus minutely adjusted his robes, shaking his head only to glance back and offer her a sheepish smile. "If you aren't careful, you will draw the attention of the Architect."

"The _hells_ I will. How'd you do it?" She folded her arms, still glowering though her aether reflected rather more joy than disgruntlement. 

"Very carefully." Elidibus hesitated, before motioning towards the window. She snorted, before nodding and making her way around so that she could plop down in a chair. Carefully, stiffly, the Emissary made his way around the bed to the chair opposite, sitting down and sighing as he did. "... Allow me to explain, Warrior of Light."

She narrowed her eyes, but gestured to him to do so.

"Emet-Selch was, almost without fail, the first one to find you whenever you reincarnated. The Architect had it down almost to an exact science, and while he lingered and watched, rarely interfering it made it nigh impossible for any other Ascian to get close without being noticed. This was the most superfluous difficulty, because Emet-Selch was truly the least of my worries at that exact moment given the way he was numb, grieving and largely oblivious to anything not directly related to Garlemald." The Emissary paused, folding his hands neatly on his lap as he felt the mildly curious attention of the other Ascians and waited for their focus to pass. "Another was the visible absence my presence would leave, as it was my job to relay orders and ideas to and from the Ascians to Zodiark. My connection was the strongest, after all, and I was the only one who could achieve a direct communion that allowed more than simple emotions to be conveyed back and forth. Again, not a particularly complex difficulty that took care of itself simply by virtue of how brief I intended it to be."

Pausing, Elidibus studied her and the way he had her focus, reminded of a time long past, and he blinked as her aether _cringed_ even as she tilted her head to watch him. 

"I am an incredible liar, if I do say so myself. I didn't dare attempt to lie directly to my God, but to myself? Delusion is a powerful thing indeed, with the strength of both my Echo and my Title behind it. I told myself that when the opportunity presented itself, I was simply going to gather information as nobody had expected you to reincarnate so quickly. By the time I chanced across your soul, you were already well on your way through your developmental years, which meant that I could not insinuate myself as an agent to attempt to convince you to join our side, however as I watched those now known as the Scions took note of you. They unknowingly presented an opportunity through the elezen. I put the larger part of myself to sleep, compacted myself down as far as I could go and convinced myself so utterly that I was, in fact, the vessel I had chosen that by and large I blissfully forgot." A soft smile spread across his face as he dropped gaze to his hands. "It was only in my dreams that I truly remembered, that I dutifully communicated what I had learned, and only after I had 'died' during Bahamut's attack that everything came back together. "

Privately, personally, the greatest truth that he had refused to face and smothered in layer upon layer upon layer of lies was that he had _missed_ their friendship. But there was no way he would tell _her_ that.

"That's the difference in cadence." She frowned, brows doubtless furrowed behind the mask. "You don't emphasize specific words, or if you do it's only rarely. You were loads more expressive with your words, put more feeling into them. What's the word... Reserved! That's the one. You're really reserved." 

"As the Emissary, I have to be. Excessive outbursts only serve to agitate the masses. The others look to me for guidance." The small smile matched his mild tone as he reached up one sleeve, withdrawing the blueprints he had snatched and sliding them across the table between them. "Permit me a change in topic, as I doubt that Emet-Selch can stay away for much longer and I would... Very much prefer this to remain a secret between us. He is already cross with me for not alerting him to your reincarnation the moment I came across it, and he tends towards jealousy."

"For now. I'm not done talking to you about this, though." Leaning forward, the Warrior tilted her head and reached to unroll the large piece of thick, coloured paper, blinking at the lines and notes. "This... Is his handwriting?"

"One of the Architect's blueprints. I feel that the question as to how they came across this would be better put to him by yourself. I snatched it from the tempered Ascians on the Thirteenth while I did a preliminary survey and scouted the area. Without it, their efforts will be greatly delayed. Such was why they attacked this location, because I returned here and they followed my retreat closely. Lahabrea killed three of them, and we both managed to wound and drive the rest off as Emmerololth and Igeyorhm protected what residents they could." 

"Ah. That's where things went south I'd bet. I'm not _mad_ that you risked yourself, seven hells it was probably a one-off chance that you couldn't pass up. I've been in situations like that, and from what Emet-Selch said you both fought them pretty handily and then promptly started working on proper defenses." Turning the curling paper one way and then another she squinted. "Is... Okay, so I get that this is the portal, but most've this doesn't make a lick of sense to me. His writing looks odd though. Frantic. It's not the neat lettering it should be."

"How clearly do you recall what it looked like." Idle curiosity and nothing more prompted the question, and Elidibus blinked as she glanced up and snorted. 

"Pretty clearly. He used a specific type of short-hand cipher too, so the fact that none've this is written like that means it's either something someone copied to try and frame him or he wasn't thinking right or he did it deliberately for others to read. Maybe a mix of the last two worst-case."

"Is there any chance that he did this while fighting the tempering I attempted to inflict upon him?" 

"I mean, I'm _pretty_ sure that he was with me the whole time. I only slept for, I dunno, a few hours or so before I woke up and asked him if there was anything I could do to help you." The Warrior frowned, lifting both hands to rub at her temples. "I can usually tell when someone comes or goes while I'm out, but I was pretty drained after laying into you and he's gotten pretty good at not disturbing me when he does. I don't think he'd've done it deliberately and just not told me or not gone and fixed it once he wasn't tempered again." 

"For what it's worth, I agree. Which means either some manner of memory-loss or someone attempting to frame him. The latter of which is... Incredibly unlikely, considering even Lahabrea would not dare." The Emissary frowned faintly, eyes resting on the blueprints. "It is possible that he has built something over the years to allow him to do this thing. A few hours is not too terribly long a time, however..."

"Hey, if anyone could understand how much damage could be done in a few hours, it'd be me." She rolled up the blueprints and pushed herself to her feet. "I'll talk to him about it. Meantime, try and get as much rest in as you can before you end up having to run off and get yourself hurt again, alright?"

Elidibus smiled softly, and nodded once before she waved and headed back out the window.

* * *

Sitting on the roof, the warrior put her lips together and blew. The whistle rang out across the rooftops, and the soft hum of a rift opening answered her as Emet-Selch stepped out.

"Finally finished speaking with the Emissary, are we?" 

"Sit down, something bad's happened and I wanna talk to you about it, 'cause I _know_ you, and I _know_ it's not something you would've done which means something's gone horribly wrong somewhere and I'ma need that glorious brain of yours to help me figure out where the problem is." She patted the shingles next to her, and pale gold eyes blinked at her before the Ascian obliged her. Pulling the rolled, folded paper from where she had stuffed it down the front of her coat, she offered it out. 

"This is..." Trailing off, he reached for it as his brows furrowed and carefully spread the paper out. Stiffening, the Architect traced his fingers along some of the words, corners of his lips curling downwards into an ugly scowl that only eased when he glanced over with growing panic and alarm and opened his mouth. "'Tis not what it-"

"Stop. Pause. Breath." She shifted to lean against him, bumping him gently with her shoulder and grinning slightly. "Before you start to get defensive, _look_ at me. Look at my aether. Know that I'm not lying when I say that I'm not angry, that I'm not offensively set. I _believe_ you and you haven't even said anything yet, okay? Best I can figure is the few hours I was out after I cleaved into Elidibus, you went and did something. So talk to me, yeah? I'm here. I'm not going to _leave_ you, 'cause I know that's where your mind went for a moment there."

He was quiet for a moment, studying her and finding only reassuring patience and curiosity with faint hints of resignation slowly swirling through her before he looked back at the blueprints. 

"... This... Is my work. My handwriting. Once you slept, I left. This I will freely admit. 'Tis only right to do so, to seek space to clear the mind after all. One of the tempered Lesser Ascians approached me, and broached the subject. The _idea_. But I did _not_ give this to them. I _refused_, little Monster. Did I write this? Yes, for after I toyed with the idea, but that you should have this implies that _someone_ went where they should _not_." Emet-Selch rolled the large piece of thick paper up, eyes narrowing at it. "This means something only marginally less terrible than my potential betrayal. This implies I have been _robbed_."

"Wait, like someone broke into your house in Garlemald?"

"Worse. They broke into my _Vaults_." A snap of his fingers sent the blueprints away as if they had offended him, and pushed himself to his feet. One hand was offered out to help her up, and she took it with a frown. "I had thought they were building their portal from what remnants of my work lingered here and there, but if they were working from my own blueprints, then you are right when you say that something has gone _horribly wrong_."

"Vaults?" The Warrior blinked at him, stepping into wrap her arms around him in a hug which he sighed and reciprocated with one arm.

"You didn't _really_ think that I kept everything I had collected over the years in a single story cottage with a small basement and smaller attic, did you? And 'tis not as if I... Look, little Monster, trust me when I say that I do not generally bring _visitors_ there, and that until you handed me my own schematics I was rather under the impression that only Elidibus had ever managed to find the entrance." Emet-Selch grumbled sourly, shoulders hunching defensively. 

"You don't want to take me with you, 'cause there's embarrassing things that might be there." She smiled slightly up at him, and when he refused to meet her eye she chuckled and nodded, stepping away. "Alright. Just, y'know, be safe okay?"

"... You aren't going to insist?" Pale gold eyes flit over to her, before glancing away once more. 

"I trust you." Shrugging, the Warrior stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Besides, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. You're powerful, so it's not like the average being could knock you down and keep you there, no matter how much I might worry about you. I wanna do what I can at your pace, 'cause you deserve it yeah? I just hope you know that I love you, that I've loved you, and that I'm always going to love you even if I think you're being an idiot."

Hades stared at her for a long moment, before heaving a resigned sigh and offering his hand out. 

"... Come on then. Quickly, before I change my mind. You have to _promise_ not to enter any areas that I deem inappropriate, however. No matter how great the temptation." 

"I swear it on my swords." She reached out and threaded her fingers between his, moving to stand beside him and grinned up at him. 

* * *

The rift that encompassed them spat them out in an area of pitch darkness. Raising his off hand, a dancing light manifested and flickered as it drifted slightly ahead of them, revealing a silent, underground path.

"I will admit mild curiosity as to how _you_ might break into my Vaults. I have set the light to hover before you. You will find the doors up the path ahead." Removing his hand from hers, he gestured for her to proceed and when she nodded and did so, followed behind by a few paces. She studied the ground and then the walls, searching for traps as she went. There were a handful of them, and for the ones she missed he gave her quiet words of warning so that the might have another chance at it. For the aetheric defenses, she drew a sword and cut through two barriers, and carefully eased around a pair of explosive glyphs only to catch the edge of a third and wind up paralyzed for the length of time it took him to undo his own work with a smirk. 

It took her roughly a bell to find her way through the maze and eventually make it to the door, which she stared at for a solid ten seconds. 

"Why do I get the feeling if I touch that I'ma get levin'd." 

"Electrocuted? Likely because such is what would happen. I spent an awful lot of time designing this door. No handle, visible lock nor seam deep enough to find purchase in." A note of pride tinged his voice, and he stood beside her as he inspected it. Through their journey, he had systematically checked around her work to search for signs of tampering, and had found himself growing ever more so displeased with how many there _were_. The door however, the door _should_ have stopped anyone from passing. Even if Elidibus had shown them where his Vaults were, the Emissary had been forced to stand there and hammer away at the door until Emet-Selch answered. 

"Right." The Warrior stared at it for a long moment, before shrugging and looking over at him. "Okay. So. I'm betting that you've got your Vault surrounded by this same stuff so that people can't just _go around_, right?" 

"Naturally. 'Tis the only way to ensure burrowing creatures and back doors are not created." The Ascian nodded, and she cracked her neck to the side and then drew both blades. "What... Are you doing?"

"You asked how I'd get in. So I'm gettin' in." She offered him a grin, before sucking in a breath and rearranging her Blessing. Approaching the door, the Warrior drew a throwing knife and tucked the hilt between her teeth just incase she had how it worked wrong. She stabbed one sword into the ground and balanced on the hilt and then tacked the point of the other against the door, trying to keep herself grounded. The Architect would _never_ admit to doing anything as undignified as _snorting_, but he did step to the side and braced so that when one of her blades sparked and she was launched backwards, convulsing from the electrical shock, he could catch her before she hit the ground. 

"You know, I had _wondered_ what you were attempting. I'm not quite certain if I should laugh or cry at... Whatever _that_ was."

She grumbled, pulling the throwing knife from between her teeth and licking her lips."Asshat. Only other thing I got is to cleave through the way I would a primal."

"That may work, however such would leave visible marks. This does not answer how the sundered, tempered Lesser Ascians managed to get in." Stooping so that she could collect her sword even as he continued to carry her, the two of them approached the door. It faded slightly, as if it was only a suggestion, and he stepped through without a problem. 

"Is... Is that supposed to happen?"

"Hmm. How much have you regained, regarding the secrets behind the titles of the Convocation members?" He glanced down at her, and she blinked up at him blankly. "Nothing? Truly?" 

"I mean, the concept's _familiar_ at least. I feel like... Hm." Her brows furrowed behind her mask, and she wiggled her nose. "Don't say anything. Lemme try and puzzle it out. Secrets behind the titles of the Convocation members, so... Things only _they_ could do, probably. Secrets, so not well know. Oh! We talked about this before, didn't we. You mentioned your memory was one've yours? Something like that?"

"Well now, look at that. My little Monster, recalling a conversation from the past. What's next, are you going to retain the knowledge of what you've managed to eat in the last twenty four bells or so?" Quirking a brow, he smirked at the way she pouted before lifting his gaze to survey the area. 

"Y'know you can put me down now. I can walk on my own." The Warrior's voice echoed slightly in the vast, wide halls that were carpeted with rich, red plush material. The vaulted ceilings were a mix of grey marble and gold scrolling that took on angular lines. Small globes protruded from the walls at regular intervals, lit with an internal orange glow to bathe everything in warm tones. Crystal-covered were set into the walls between the six and twenty fulm marks, deliberately so to showcase a wide variety of things. Preserved flowers, magitek, armaments and fragments of reconstructed pottery all on display at different heights. 

"Can, yes. Will? Perhaps. Not only can I keep a grip on you to prevent you from wandering off, but I also simply find that I _do not want to_."

She pinked slightly across the face at that, and cleared her throat as she sheathed the one blade she could. "... As you were, then." 

The 'door' behind them solidified, existence reaffirmed, and Emet-Selch stood there in silence, finding the lack of any evidence of a break in somewhat disconcerting. "... Yes, to answer your question, such was supposed to happen. 'Tis a Secret of the Emet-Selch." 

"Hey." She shifted in his grasp, tucking her free hand against the side of his face to draw his focus down to her and steal a brief, tender kiss. "... It's gunna be alright, yeah? What am I gunna do, call you a monster and try and run away? I like to think you know me a bit better than that. You don't have to be nervous about _me_. Just whatever else might be missing." 

"... I _suppose_ you might theoretically have a point. Still..." 

"Hades, we bumped _souls. _I _know_ how much obsession and madness you hide from the world. I know _you_. Right down to your constant need to tweak and tinker in a fit of-of-of I dunno the word but I know there's one for it, where you get almost deranged, wrapped up in what you're doing to the point where you forget about everything unrelated and have razor-sharp focus. I _remember_ how your hair used to end up stuck out all over the place and you'd get big black rings of exhaustion around your eyes, bits and pieces from figments and fragments and I _love you anyways_. I love you in part because of those things. Remember? Hydaelyn showed me all this horrible stuff about you." The Warrior reached up to brush some of the hair back from his face, smiling softly. "I _get_ why you try to keep that bit smothered. You get _unhinged_ sometimes, cracked from the long empty years. I've seen what could easily be considered the worst of you, and still demand cuddles. You're _mine_, and if you think whatever you have here might scare me away, then I say bring it on."

He studied her, studied her aether and the confident smile that had settled across her face, before he gently set her down. Wordlessly, he made his way along the carpet, pausing and turning to wait for her as she sheathed the other blade and then jogged a bit to catch up. Silently, he made his way to a spiral staircase and descended, one heavy footfall at a time, crossing a hall and turned to the left, holding out his hand.

She took it, weaving her fingers between his and giving it a reassuring squeeze as the section of wall in front of them flickered and vanished. They stepped through the space, and it snapped back into existence behind them as she blinked at the dimly illuminated, vaulted chamber. 

It was _huge_. She couldn't see to the end of it, and it contained a veritable forest of crystal pillars. The same purple-tinged crystal that showcased the trophies of the ages, and within each of them at varying intervals lingered a shape similar to an insect in amber. Set relatively close to the door was a plush armchair, red and edged in gold, and she glanced at it before looking back out to the pillars with slowly widening eyes as her Echo touched the emotions that had seeped into the walls, the floor, the very air of the still, quiet room.

Her aether cringed, and she saw once, twice, ten times, a hundred, a thousand, _countless_ moments where a body or an urn was brought, held out and then the crystal was grown and shaped to hold and seal his offering, before the chair was dragged out so that he could sit and stare and contemplate. Sometimes, he would take up the chair and dash it to pieces in a fit of unstable rage, or bawl like a child, or sit on the floor with his back to the crystal, singing softly with tired eyes and a bottle of one alcohol or another in hand. Innumerable words spoken, the sound blending into a soft susurrus that mixed with inhuman howls and shrieks of despair as he danced on the line of mentally cracking before tipping over. Numerous hands raised, as if to smite the crystal but always that _hesitation_, that moment of _no, no, I cannot_ that inevitably had him manually repairing the chair and hauling it back to the door before he left. 

More often than not, however, he sat silent. Expressionless. As still as a stone statue, and it was these moments that pained her the most. She _knew_ those moments. She had them herself, where she was hollow and _empty_ because not feeling anything was better than the weight of loss. 

Her vision cleared, and she sucked in a breath as she realized she was sitting on the floor and crying quietly, tucked against the Architect's side as he rocked them both ever so gently from side to side. Her hands shook slightly, and she reached for one of his hands to bring it to her lips, pressing tiny kisses against the backs of his knuckles. 

"I'm here. I'm _here_." 

"I know." Came his soft reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that chapter that I wasn't sure if I wanted to make canon or not?   
Yeah. Survey says it happened. : D


	67. Missing Blueprints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big oof, this chapter posted before I finished it because I accidentally hit the wrong thing. it's fixed and finished now though!

They sat like that for several long moments, neither one particularly inclined to move until she finally shook herself and gently nudged him with her shoulder. The Ascian hummed quietly, before letting her go so that she could push herself to her feet and offer a hand out to him. Pulling him up as well, she turned and looked towards the crystal pillars and reached up to remove her mask. Using her free hand to scrub at her face, she glanced back at him and wavered for a moment. 

"... May I?"

Hades nodded once, and clasped his hands behind his back as she squared her shoulders and started to almost aimlessly wander. He followed, at a short distance, watching only her as she made her way along. Periodically, her aether cringed and he wondered at what she seeing that only made the determination in her soul flare and grow until it all but consumed her. He didn't ask, however, not trusting his vessel's voice and quietly curious as to what her goals were. 

For all that this was the first time this reincarnation had ever walked his Vaults, she seemed to tread with _purpose_. Every now and then, she would pause and tilt her head before her aether cringed and she would angle slightly more one way or another. It was only after a moment to orient himself and discern where they were within the crystal pillars that supported the ceiling that he realized she was making her way slowly but surely to the center. 

The Ascian drew a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to caution her against it... And shook his head. No, she had already come this far, the Architect mused to himself, what was the point of stopping her _now? _There wasn't one. And so, he simply continued to follow. 

She caught sight of her goal, and slowed only for a moment as she stared at something only she could see, aether cringing once more, and it occured to him that she was watching _him_, that her Echo was feeding her memories of perhaps one of the first dozen times he had entered the chamber. She was following _him_, even as he followed her, and slowly she made her way to the raised dais hidden within the heart of his Vaults. The stairs were meant for a far taller individual, but she clambered up them as he started to drift upwards and glide along. 

There, within the very center, stood three pillars. Each one held only a single form, two of them identical while the third was taller, lankier and wearing cleaner robes. It was this one that she paused at first, staring up at and studying the few strands of white hair that poked out from under the hood. Gently, the Warrior tucked a hand against the purple-tinged crystal and nodded slowly. 

"This... is you." 

It wasn't a question so much as a statement, but he nodded in agreement nonetheless. She bobbed her head amiably before turning and making her way over to the closer set pillars that housed what could have passed for twins. He could feel her curiosity as she glanced over at him. 

"You're missing one. What happened to the third?"

"Quite honestly? I never found it. Not for lack of trying, either. Elidibus believes that it was destroyed. Considering the rate of decomposition, after the first century it became... Pointless, to look." 

"But you did anyways, didn't you." Her tone was gentle, and she eased over so that she could hug him. The Ascian hunched further, sighing and leaning against her as he wrapped his arms around her in turn. 

"... I did." Came the admittance, and she smiled against his shoulder before pulling away and raking a hand through her hair. Once she had found one of the longer uneven chunks, she drew one of her throwing knives and hacked it off. Fishing through her pockets as she tucked the blade between her teeth, she recovered a thin strip of leather and tied the bundle off and then snagged his hand, pressing it against his palm and curling his fingers over it. 

"Well, now you've got practically the complete set for mementos." 

And then she was leaning up, pecking a quick kiss against his cheek and spilling lazily around him so that she could head back along the path she had picked out, leaving him partially leaned forward and staring, wide-eyed at the space she had occupied.

* * *

He didn't give her much of a tour, after that. Instead, he spent the time combing his Vaults from top to bottom. The longer he searched, the more angry he became. Anything encased by the protective crystal was left untouched, but when he went into his library... 

It was _gutted_. 

Millennia of books and tomes and accumulated knowledge, missing. His hands had gripped the door frame with enough force that the petrified wood cracked. He turned and crossed the hall to his office where the Warrior was staring at the the overturned desk with a frown. She promptly stepped out of the way as he stalked over to it and hauled it upright. A clever combination tipped the false-bottom drawer open, and he recovered a metal flask from within it and then promptly handed it off to her. 

She accepted it, following him as he felt along the walls and then started pulling thin panels free. They slid outwards, and she blinked as she caught sight of blueprints safely held within thin panes of purple-tinted crystal. One by one, he pulled each of them out and made sure they remained. 

Two were missing from his office, and he pressed the one she had returned to him into what she presumed was it's proper place before sliding the panel shut. That done, he made his way back into the library and started doing the same thing along the walls there. Two more empty slots were revealed, chunks of broken, partially melted crystal framing the hole that marked where the blueprints used to rest, and the air around him _darkened_. 

"So... What's missing?"

"Blueprints for aetheric converters, resonance devices, and a secondary type of 'portal' strictly designed to transport raw aether and nothing more. We planned to utilize it to simply put Zodiark back together but the very concept was flawed and it turned out rather more like a _canon_ than any true means of transportation." Emet-Selch lifted his hands, rubbing his temples. "Considering the damage to the cases I kept them in, I would not be surprised if some of them were in worse condition than others."

"Okay, so... I've a general idea of what the first one would do, because of all the talking about Eden but... Resonance like what Zenos has or resonance like a lot of sound, or...?" She squinted, and the Architect drifted over and touched down near by. 

"Oh for the love of-" Several scathing comments were bitten back as the Ascian went from rubbing his temples to pinching the bridge of his nose. She raised her hands defensively, and he shook his head. "'Tis not _you_ I am cross with. Understand this if nothing else."

"I know, I know. Say, would sparring help?" 

"Little Monster, this is hardly the time-" She grinned at him, drawing her blades before pointing one at him and interrupting him as he scowled at her. 

"Look, you offered when I was pissed off. You yourself said that you couldn't likely disrupt my Echo enough to _actually_ kill me in combat, and fair's fair. When was the last time that you _actually_ cut loose?" Her grin eased into a smile as she lowered the blade. "What's worse, bottling that up and losing your cool and focus in the heat of the moment, or taking a bell or two to fling spellwork at me and weaving back and forth in the best dance I know?"

He was _wavering,_ and she could see it. He prided himself on control, after all, and it wasn't as if she was saying anything he didn't already know or couldn't figure out. One blade came up, and she tapped the flat of it against her shoulder, carefully doling out her proverbial cards one after the other: time, knowledge, and the greatest weakness of any Amaurotine citizen - curiosity. "They're already long gone. We know their goal. Elidibus stole the plans that were partially translated and it's not like they're unsundered. They're anywhere from mine to Urianger's intelligence, no match for you with a level head. We know where they're going to be, and loosely why. Besides, you can't tell me you're not _curious_ about how I'd hold up against you when you're being serious."

The Architect's lips thinned into a line as he stared at her. 

"... You know, the worst part about this is that you said something _intelligent_ and that I can hardly find a flaw to your logic save for one. Every moment we waste is a moment that _my_ property, _my_ blueprints are gone."

"We don't even know how long ago they were stolen. One or two bells isn't going to end the world."

* * *

He led her, from the main, central floor, up the spiral staircase this time. There was a great deal of solid stone between the two floors, and as they reached the top she blinked and raised both eyebrows as she surveyed the enormity of the room. Largely featureless save for old scorch marks, and piles of scrap metal, stone and wood, it was lit by glowing patches in the ceiling and floors. 

"Testing floor? Uhh... Quick question, wouldn't it have made sense to put this on the bottom, not the top?" Both blades were tucked into one hand as she pulled her mask out of a pocket and pressed it against her face. 

Pale gold eyes rolled as he reached out and pulled a purple-tinted crystal staff out of thin air and started to hover a good fulm off the ground. The staff drifted out, remaining by his right side and rotating slowly. "If you tended more towards earthquakes and less towards vaporization, yes. The last thing I needed over the countless eons was to destroy support pillars holding the rest of my Vaults _up_ however. You have until the count of ten." 

"Crown up then, Architect. If you start out holding back, I'll give you good reason not to _real_ quick-like." Blades in both hands, she saluted and turned to start running for the center of the room. 

"Crown u-!?" Emet-Selch let out an exasperated sound, folding his arms before lifting his chin. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!"

"_Those're really short seconds!_" The Warrior picked up speed, cursing under her breath and reversing her grip on her swords. It had only taken one tumble and tripping hazard to teach her how easy it was to accidentally stab herself in the face if she went down, though the thigh certainly wasn't any _better_ of an option. 

"Count of ten, not ten seconds little Monster! Six! Seven! Eight!" Unfolding his arms, he smirked as she made it to one of the closer piles of rubble and made her way over it. Lifting one hand, he snapped his fingers and pulled his crown into being as well. It spun lazily as he drifted higher, holding his other hand out. "Nine! Ten!"

"AHHHHHH!"

He couldn't help but smirk. It disappeared as he narrowed his focus and poured himself into his spellwork. A subtle gesture coupled with another snap pulled a series of dark amethyst-coloured blades into existence before they started rapid-firing into the pile of scrap she had taken refuge behind. She peeled out of it, going into a dive as they started to explode, the momentum propelling her forward. Another barrage sent her skittering and twisting, pushing off the ground and rolling to get her feet back under her so that she could pick up momentum and start circling around to his right. 

With no cover to hide behind, he had no trouble following her movements and drifted towards the center of the room while tucking his index and middle fingers together on one hand and following her progress with it. A quick sketch of a circle preceded the way his aether gathered, built, and then lanced outwards in a beam that she put on a burst of speed to get ahead of. 

A snap of the fingers of his free hand as he tethered his flight and a basic defensive spell to the staff sent a wave of mixed black and violet tendrils out towards her, and she abruptly dropped into a slide, avoiding the worst of it and getting sent tumbling and rolling towards the wall with what little had clipped her. A push brought her back up to her feet, and all the warning he had was the way her aether went from balanced to rather suddenly tipping towards purple. 

She bolted, going from a hundred and fifty fulms away to a mere thirty, and she abruptly turned and dove to the side even as he cupped his hands and dropped an orb of aether in her path. Tisking, he gestured outwards with one hand and sent it chasing after her, before her aether surged purple once more and _stuttered_. 

Several short-ranged bolted hops sent her zigging and zagging safely out of the way even as she turned to resume circling. Tan spread through her after the fifth, and she had enough of a distance on the orb that she was able to briefly slow her pace and tuck both blades in one hand. The other dipped and snapped out, launching a throwing knife at him that was effortlessly rebounded by the basic defenses he had erected previously. 

She came to a full stop, head tilting and fishing out a flask so that she could take a swig and then stuffed it down her shirt as she re-capped it, turning and breaking out into a sprint as the orb of aether rolled along and approached her. Several snaps and barrages of explosive shards of blades later, and she had once more narrowed the distance down to roughly thirty fulms and had a bit of distance on the somewhat slower orb. 

"Come now, Hero, is this all there is to you? Running in circles? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be _too_ upset." 

He expected her to banter back at him, but instead she cut a hard right and sprinted towards him, kicking off from the ground and bounding upwards. Teasingly, he kept just outside of her range, rolling his eyes and giving her a _look_ before blinking. She puffed out her cheeks, and spat out a spray of what smelled like _brandy_, before sweeping both blades through it and sparking the mass. 

Fire briefly blinded him, for all that it rolled harmlessly off his shields, and he tracked her aether for a moment as she dropped like a stone and then bolted straight up. The familiar way her power gathered along the edges of the blades forewarned him, and he turned and shot off to the side as she clipped through the edge of his barriers and cut through them as if they were made of the finest gossamer. What he hadn't expected, was for her to kick a foot up and force them to manifest so that she could stab a blade downwards and anchor herself to the aether of his spell. 

He dropped it, of course, reaching out to tap the staff and untether it, dropping her a good fourty fulms to the ground where she tucked, twisted in mid-air and got her feet under her. Landing splay-legged like a cat, she surged forward and skipped around the orb of aether that was still in pursuit before finally lashing out with a blade, popping it like a bubble. She didn't have a lot of time to stare up at him, however, considering he took advantage of the few seconds she had come to a halt to resume launching barrages of explosive crystalline shards at her. She swiped at the first few that would have caught her, cutting cleanly through them but then realized the error of her ways as they exploded immediately after. 

Waiting moment for the smoke to clear, he blinked as pain bloomed through his chest and looked down to find a throwing knife sticking out of his shoulder. Tisking, the Ascian pulled it out and then drifted back as another came out of the dispersing cloud. He answered it with more of his own, free hand coming out to sketch a circle in the air as he gathered his aether. Another beam came lancing downwards on an angle, and he watched as her aether layered pale blue and tan together even as she brought both of her black blades up. 

It hit her square, driving her back and down but as it ended he blinked to find her largely undamaged, if smoking slightly. 

"C'mon old man! Some've us don't have forever! I thought you were supposed to be powerful!" 

She grinned crookedly up at him, and the veneer good humour he had been hiding behind evaporated.

* * *

He just _never ran out of aether_, she marveled to herself as she dove into another forward roll and narrowly missing the latest barrage of blades. The only reason she had gotten out of their way was the big patches of 'ow' that were being telegraphed all over the place. Part of the problem was that he was intending and choosing multiple things at once. And casting them, too. There wasn't a whole lot of safe floor to go around.

Tendrils of darkness lanced outwards, chasing her as she skipped and went into a spinning, slashing frenzy to sever through them and came to an abrupt halt to reverse her momentum and bolt back the way she had come. A series of purple, blue and black spearheads manifested in a flat wall and released a series of beams that had almost cost her a hand the first time she had made the mistake of trying to cut through them. She knew better, now. A tingle rasped across her sensibilities and she unthinkingly, unhesitatingly threw herself to the side as a pillar of darkness slammed down where she had been and spread outwards, stinging her across the backs of her legs. 

She had to think of a way to get up there. Ever since the first time she had jumped up he was keeping himself at a respectable height, and while she could probably leap it straight up with the way her blood sang with adrenaline and the Blessing the problem was finding a way to hold on. She could tell he had re-engaged his defensive magic as seen by how the last throwing dagger had pinged off it and clattered to the ground. Speaking of...

The Warrior dove abruptly to the side, throwing herself into another roll and scooping up the throwing knife as she went. A pivot and slash hacked through another orb of aether, and she went through her options. Well, if he wasn't going to come down (because really, she didn't have any way to make him do so) that really only left her going _up_. He was hardly the first out of reach opponent she had ever fought, just one of the smartest. 

Curved blades were useful for a number of reasons. They swung and slashed well, and you could stab someone with one and angle it up to get under the ribs nicely and into the soft, squishy bits that most people died from the tickling of. Anyone who had the physical strength to could also attest to how they could be used to dig into ice and anchor someone to a wall, and she wouldn't have a problem penetrating whatever material the walls were made of. The problem with that line of thinking, she admitted as she abruptly reversed her momentum and noped out of the way of another of the larger, more powerful blasts, was that he was steering clear of the walls and remaining somewhat in central within the room. 

The defenses. He had tagged the staff before she had plummeted. That meant maybe he was using it to increase the number of things he could keep going at a time. Running a thumb quickly along the middle of her mask, she blinked rapidly and adjusted to the haze and fog of the ambient aether even as she reshuffled her own. Bracing defensively, she counted the thin lines she had identified as 'spells' between him and the crystal stick. 

Two. The minor defenses and one other that was coloured a faint greenish. Wind based, she guessed. That _had_ to be it. A grin crossed her face even as she was temporarily blinded by the larger, slower blast of aether that almost sent her to her knees, one blade defensively braced as she ran the thumb of her other hand along the middle of her mask to set her vision back to normal. 

She had a target. She had always been fast. The Warrior pushed out from the crouch, and sprinted forward, picking up speed as she went. The step before she kicked off, her boots bulged slightly with the swell of the muscles in her legs, and she kicked off and twisted into a spin. 

He probably thought she missed, considering the way he drifted back only slightly, but then his eyes widened and he snapped a hand out to send streamers of violets and blacks towards her even as she snapped one blade through them to sever them from his aether and swept the second blade between him and the staff. He dropped out of the air like a rock, getting his hands up and recasting the spell a fulm away from the ground only for her to touch down next to him and slap the flat of it across his rump. 

Hades got his feet under himself, dropping the spell and snagged the end of the crystal staff with one hand before twisting and spinning, snapping it against one defensively braced blade and batting her clear across the room as aether sparked and enhanced the swing. She twisted and brought both blades down into the ground, using the curved, flat edges along the backs of them to drag herself to a halt before pulling herself up and shaking one arm out. It was _numb_, partially from the force of the blow and partially from the aether that had sparked. A faint shimmer of his aether along the ground under her feet sent her bolting, running and hanging a hard left as the crackle of growing purple-tinged crystal followed her. 

It burst up before her, and she hopped and tucked, cleaving through it with one blade and touching down on the other side, splintering her bolt so that she could zig and zag in shorter hops as she watched him begin to rise up once more. A grin crossed her features as she sheathed both blades and kicked off, tackling him out of the air. He twisted, turning to put her under him as they hit the ground and skid, but she skewed to the side and pushed off with a knee and shin to roll them again. She ended up on top of him, and as he lifted one hand to start twisting and curling it through the air she snapped her own up to pin it against the floor above his head. 

The barrel of a gun nosed up under her chin, and she grinned madly at him even as she ducked her head to claim his lips in a demanding kiss that drew a quiet, restrained groan from the prone Ascian beneath her. Lifting her head slightly, she licked her lips and practically purred out five words.

"I've _caught_ you, my Hades~."

The pupils of his pale gold eyes dilated with a mix of adrenaline and his _name_, and the gun was cast aside with a clatter in favour of the front of her coat to haul her down for another kiss.


	68. Chapter 68

"All things have the capacity for some manner of resonance." Stretching tiredly, Emet-Selch ignored the way the scratches along his back and shoulders stung in favour of snuggling more comfortably against the Warrior where they lay in his ridiculously overly large bed. She hummed inquisitively, rousing slightly and shifting one hand to start idly smoothing her fingers through his hair. "How powerful that resonance _is_, depends entirely upon how similar two things are. There are certain degrees of flexibility with this, as there are substances such as the personal aether of one individual that will resonate and adapt to match the harmonics of another. Emotional resonance is a common trait of empaths and empathic individuals, as an example. Another example, is the ease with which one might use a familiar tool. The longer you use it, the better your resonance with this item simply because of how much of your personal aether has, for lack of a better term 'rubbed off' on it and imprinted." 

"Oh. I'm betting that resonance devices can skip that wait period to make it easier?" 

"In part. They can also cause two widely remote things to resonate together as well. Such is one of the foundations of allagan teleportation technology, which to my understanding you are passingly familiar with." Turning his face to press a soft kiss against her clavicle, the Architect sighed contently. "Such is also how aetherites largely work. They act as a beacon, so that when you reach out with your aether you can find it and thus teleport to... Well, wherever the aetherite is." 

"Less familiar with that. I've never been able to actually teleport myself somewhere like that. Always gotta ride on the coat tails of someone else. It worked on Azys Lla, though, between the platforms, so I understand a bit of that." She started to shift her fingers in small circles along his scalp, massaging as she went. "So it's sort of like... Hmm. So it's sort of like how big emotions can spread like wildfire through a room? Like when one person is angry, you can sort've feel it in the air and it goes from there? Or like how a bunch've crystals will glow brighter when put together, before being used to summon a primal?" 

"Emotional and aetheric resonances." The words came out around a yawn as he slid one hand absentmindedly to her sternum and shifted his fingers in small circles that matched the moment of her own. "You understand the basic principle, little Monster. When you attune to an aetherite you essentially give it a miniscule amount of your personal aether so that you can find it again later, is another way to think of it." 

"Oh. So sort've like the bit've you that you gave me." Blinking, the Warrior lifted her other arm to peer at the chunk of amethyst coloured crystal that remained tied to her forearm. 

"Yes. Such is how I can simply bring myself to you should the need arise." Eyes closing, the Ascian let his head loll against her shoulder. 

"Hey, question."

"Hm?"

"What does your crown actually _do?_ I figured out what the crystal stick does, but not the hat." Her words brought a huffed sound of amusement from Emet-Selch as his lips quirked upwards into a tired smirk. 

"_Have_ you now? Indulge me, little Monster. What is it that you believe my 'stick' does. How correct you are, will determine how much I divulge."

"Spellcasting focus and tether to help you keep more spells going than the average caster." Her words were certain, and he hummed out an impressed noise. 

"Well now, largely correct. I do not _need_ a spellcasting focus, however such does assist. I can tether up to four different spells to the staff, if such was necessary, however such divides the power it holds. Two is generally what I prefer my 'maximum' tethered spells to be, however certain spells do not _need_ to be beyond a certain level of strength. Such as Unending Breath, which simply allows one to hold their breath nigh indefinitely. This requires fewer resources than Water... Breathing..." Brow furrowing, the Architect's pale gold eyes opened slightly and he made a quiet noise of disgruntlement. "_Why_ am I bothering to tell you this? 'Tis not as if such is something you actively _want_ to know."

"Because I actually _am_ paying attention. I do want to know and, honestly? I like hearing you voice." Her smile coloured her voice as she closed her eyes and settled her unoccupied hand atop his. Emet-Selch huffed quietly. "Well? Go on. Less strength than water breathing?" 

"... Which means that I need not bind it to my staff with the strength required for flight." 

"Sounds like you've got four blocks to work with, and certain spells can get by with occupying one whereas some might need two." 

"Surprisingly astute of you." Tipping his face up, the Ascian shifted to press his lips against the edge of her chin, catching her lips the next time as she tilted her head down to meet him part way. "It also has a handful of lesser enchantments. It _is_ my staff of office, after all."

"Like what?" She blinked open her eyes to meet his own, fingers still shifting gently through his hair. 

"Impact and Conductive. I am certain you can discern what the first one means, but in the case of the latter it channels my elemental affinity."

"Which is... Death. Wait, you can insta-kill things with that?" She quirked a brow. He shrugged slightly and nosed along her shoulder for a moment.

"Should I pour enough _intent_ into the strike, yes. Otherwise I can deaden nerves and the like. I tried such on you earlier, but it doesn't seem to have worked." Emet-Selch sounded almost sullen for a moment, before he light laugh drew his attention back to her. 

"I dunno, my arm was pretty numb from tryin' to block that." 

"From the jarring impact of the strike, not from my attempt." He countered, settling contently against her side once more and idly rubbing his cheek against her shoulder. "You would have_ lost_ all ability to utilize the arm if it had worked. Still, you were asking about the _crown_." 

"Oh yeah. So what's it do?"

"Nothing _useful_, not any more." He was _definately_ pouting, and she jostled him gently with a chuckle. "What. 'Tis true. Wishing it were otherwise will not make it so. It enhances the level of my creation magic far beyond what any Amaurotine citizen could contend with. Where many would be able to Create small, simple things I could materialize and manifest entire buildings with a wave, utilizing the crown. Now? Largely all it is good for is to guide and grow the crystal you avoided, due to how Creation magics are what caused the first Doom."

"Ohhh... Y'know I wouldn't say that's useless. If I'm understanding you right, that means that the crystal you use is woven from your own aether, amplified and extended and empowered so that a single drop makes much more than it should. And it seems like it's be stronger than normal, too, considering the resistance I got hacking through it." Tilting her head, she smiled softly. "It also looks _quite_ nice, I think." 

"Hm. What did you think it did?" 

"Similar to the stick, in that it might've made it easier for you to cast things. Maybe had some sort've barrier-thing included." 

Tutting quietly, Emet-Selch shook his head and nosed along the side of her neck. "No. However, I will tell you this much. Each segment represents an Emet-Selch before me."

She glanced at him curiously, before letting her eyes travel down to the hardness he was slowly starting to grind against her thigh. "Okay, now I gotta ask, is it a teaching thing causing that or is it 'cause we're both still naked?" 

"Teaching is one of Lahabrea's, not _mine_." Grimacing, the Architect distracted himself with the side of her neck, pressing kisses against the darkened, reddened marks that lingered there. "No, little Monster, this is _entirely_ your fault. Shouldn't you take responsibility for it?" 

Snickering, the Warrior shifted and rolled to straddle him, tucking her hands against the sides of his face even as she pressed her lips against his in a gentle kiss. 

"Don't mind if I do, Hades."

* * *

One rather long nap and rather pleasant bath later, and she was trailing along behind the Ascian as he stalked the halls of his vault and casually flicked his fingers. Ancient relics of the past were vanishing, one after the other as he collected them and sent them... Well, she didn't really quite _know_ where, and so she stuffed her hands in her pockets and ambled a little closer. 

"Where do those go, exactly? When you do that?" 

"An extra-dimensional fold of reality." She blinked at him, and he turned slightly to quirk a brow at her as he felt the blank stare she gave him as her aether twisted in confusion. "You _did_ inquire, little Monster."

"So I did. Think I might follow the explanation?" The Warrior came to a stop beside him as he studied her, only to turn and face the firearm embedded into the wall. 

"This is a rifle. 'Tis roughly twenty nine ilms long, by four ilms wide, by seven ilms deep. I could not naturally carry this on my person in any truly concealed manner save for should I stuff it down the back of my coat and hope that when I walk, it doesn't disturb the back of my skirts. Difficult, but not impossible. However." Reaching out, the Ascian curled his hand and snapped his fingers, the sound echoing through the halls. The rifle vanished with a faint shimmer. "There are three ways to store something such as this available to me. The first, miniaturization based transmutation. The second, to simply _send_ it somewhere with translocation or teleportation. The third, is to fold space and produce a type of pocket that can hold certain amounts of weight or certain sizes of items. The larger, thicker and more powerful the individual, the larger the size of these 'pockets' and the greater they number can they maintain. Currently? I am utilizing a mix of all three. Some items I am sending to Garlemald and Azys Lla, some I miniaturize and physically carry on my vessel while others - such as my blueprints - I have folded into my aether."

She stared at him. He stared back, expectantly waiting. 

"So you're making it small, sending it elsewhere or putting it in a magic pocket?" She cautiously ventured after a moment. He smirked and leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips. 

"Close enough that it makes little to no difference, little Monster." 

"If you gave someone one of the things you made small, would it stay small?" She beamed, proud. "Hey, if I keep answering mostly right you owe me more kisses." 

"I believe we had a conversation regarding the currency value of kisses. Neither of us reached a satisfactory answer, although the matter was resolved. You _still_ owe me three honest answers." Musing to himself, he focused on the wall and resumed his work of collecting his effects. 

"You haven't asked difficult questions I don't really want to answer since then." Shrugging, she ambled along as he stepped to the side, curling his fingers and swishing his hand through the air as a prototype for the Garlean Magitek Armor shimmered and vanished. 

"The questions I want to ask that would be difficult are better put towards the moments that you recall Amaurot. A conversation, as you would say, for another day."

"Like what?" She studied him curiously, cracking her neck quietly as he hummed. 

"Did you _really_ kiss Nabriales? What truly was your relationship with Elidibus? How did you manage to get everyone -_everyone-_ to love you in some capacity, to the point where Fandaniel and Pashtarot physically fought over a perceived slight against you?" The tone of his questions were mild, and he took a few steps to the side as he tried to determine if he _wanted_ to bring a handful of drones with him or if they would be better off sent to Garlemald.

"Woah! Woah-woah-woah, time out, hold up, _what__?"_ She leaned forward slightly, jaw hanging slightly open as she held up both hands, marking a 'T' in the air several times. "_Nabriales? _ Smug nasal guy that Moenbryda sacrificed herself to kill?"

"The same." A strand of ugly jealousy coiled through him, and the Ascian throttled it with practiced ease even as he waved a hand and sent the drones to Azys Lla while an idea occurred to him. "There was an article printed in the Stellazzio, a newspaper in Amaurot, but it was quickly dismissed as rumour. When I brought it to your attention you _laughed._"

"I mean, he doesn't _seem_ my type. And every memory from before the Sundering that I've got is... Pretty solidly pro Hades and nobody else." She looked thoughtful. 

"He was very timid, before the Sundering. But I digress, little Monster. I do believe that is the last of my trophies and mementos. All that is left..." Trailing off, Emet-Selch glanced down at the floor, feeling the work that lingered below. 

"There's... A lot there. You sure you can carry all that in one trip?" The Warrior tilted her head, frowning faintly. 

"Quite honestly? They are utterly useless to anyone save for either of us, and even then 'tis largely only for nostalgia. They can remain for the time being." The Ascian stepped over, reaching to take both of her hands in his own with a small smile. 

"Heh. Alright. Where to, then?" 

"Rising Stones, and then from there I will return to Azys Lla and bring Emmerololth with me. Igeyorhm can attend to Elidibus for the time being, and the Water Bearer will be tasked instead with the restoration of the Allagan facility. Lahabrea, naturally, will be asked to company her however considering we share the same _rank_ the likelyhood of ordering him to do so and having him actually _listen_ are slim to none."

"And then you'll come back to me?" She perked up, and he huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. 

"Are you so lost without me, little Monster?"

"Yeah. 'S sure handy having someone who can teleport me places. What'm I supposed to do without you, _walk?_" She grinned at him, and he dropped her hands in favour of folding his arms and looking insulted.

* * *

They stepped out of the rift, and she stretched idly even as she glanced around. Nothing _seemed_ amiss, but a glint of metal atop one of the nearby cliffs caught her attention and she glanced back at Emet-Selch as he looked back towards the bar that fronted the Rising Stones. 

"I think Estinien needs something. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" 

"Naturally. Remember, should you ever _need_ me, simply whistle." He smirked faintly, before turning and stalking into the building as she grinned and started towards the closest vertical surface so that she could start climbing her way up. It took her longer than she expected, considering she had to slide half-way back down and then work her way back up from another side to account for the spire of crystal the dragoon was perched atop. He glanced down from where he stood balanced on the spear he had stabbed into the faintly glowing material, and bent his knees slightly when she snagged the haft and hauled herself up to join him. 

"Oh don't worry. I'm not gunna knock you off. You wanted me to climb up here, after all. What's your boggle?" 

"Ishgard." He crouched, offering out a hand to haul her up and settle her on her feet next to him. "Aymeric leads the rebuilding. Vidofnir will warn him, but."

"But you want to go to help protect it. Honestly? I'm glad you stuck around to say goodbye and all, but follow your heart." She grinned, reaching out to flick his arm idly. "Best I've got for now is 'beware voidsent being fired through the sky'. Some time's been bought, too. Give him a hug from me, will you?"

"Give me a hug yourself!" 

Dragoon and rogue paused, leaning carefully to peer downwards at the voice that called up to them. Ayemeric, his armor in a pile at the bottom of the cliff, had climbed most of the way up and was staring up at them with a small grin. 

"Oy! What the hells are you doin' around these parts?" She beamed, before shifting over to the crystal and shimmying down a few fulms. Both blades were drawn and dug in so that she could shimmy back up and then stand atop the hilts, leaning comfortably against the spire at her back. Estinien crouched and tucked both hands on the haft of his spear, locking his legs around it so that he could let go with his hands and stretch them out, beckoning to the other elezen. 

"Looking for you. My forces have returned to Ishgard to assist with the rebuilding, and I-" He paused, flattening against the crystal as a chunk broke off in his hand. "... I am hardly suited to climbing like this."

"'Least you were smart and left your armor behind. Think you're arms are sore now? It'd've been -loads- worse with that extra weight." She offered him a grin, tucking her hands on her hips. "C'mon, not far now. Don't worry, if you -do- fall, I'll catch you. That is, if Estinien doesn't beat me to it."

"Forgive me, should neither of those prospects bring me much relief." Clearing his throat, Ser Aymeric resumed his careful, cautious climb and finally stretched a hand out to clasp one of the dragoons. He was hauled up the last few fulms to the spear and sat on it, one hand against the crystal and the other latching onto the haft with a white-knuckled grip. "What you requested has been completed, and I sought to deliver it myself. A brief break from the duties of endless paperwork, though provided I survive the trip back down unscathed I must needs return within the hour."

The Warrior's eyes lit up and she stuck a hand out while the Lord Commander fished through his pockets and carefully handed a small box over to her. "Thank's! I'd forgotten, actually. I'm gunna run back down and leave Estinien to fill you in on what's going on, but I'll remember this, yeah?"

"It was the least we could-" He stiffened as she swung around and clambered up, giving him a brief hug as the dragoon hissed something about 'too much weight' before she dropped back down to haul her swords out of the crystal. "-Do... Estinien, why does she look like she is about to jump."

"Because she is."

The Warrior gathered herself, and kicked off from the spire to tumble and twist through the air, sailing over the buildings built by the base of the cliff and landing with a heavy thud. She was up and staggering towards the Rising Stones within seconds, holding the box above her head in one hand as if to prove it was okay. Both elezen shared a glance before chuckling and looking back down to track her progress. 

"She refuses to change." 

"I should hope so. The world could use more people like her. Now then, she said you had aught to inform me of?"

The dragoon grimaced, and settled in to go over what he knew.


	69. Smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's...  
It's just smut.  
Nothing more.  
Hmm.  
(legit a weak point in writing for me so I figured I'd do a chapter and try to write some)  
(Edit: I've officially scrapped the contents of this chapter three times now to rewrite it. I still don't know if I'm satisfied with it. It's better than it -was-, at least)

She didn't quite remember -what- they were fighting about. Something about danger and him not-dying. All she knew was that she'd run her mouth, he had said something sassy, and then she had told him he could go _fuck_ himself, because at least _Lahabrea__'d_ had the sense to flee when endangered. 

Now? He had pushed her against the wall, crowding her, lips locked to hers as he hungrily devoured the stifled groans she made as she ripped his sash and the shirt under it in a bid to _touch_ him. 

He shrugged out of his coat, one sleeve at a time and struggled with it for a moment as he broke the kiss for air, lips curled in a snarl as he finally shucked the piece of clothes and hauled the scarf from around her neck so that he could get at it, growling a litany of _mine -mine- **mine**_that had tingles rocketing through her before his lips were busy once more. She finished tearing his shirt, and reached up to push backwards so that he could shuck it as well even as he reached down and snagged her shirt and coat by the bottom and then leaned back, hauling upwards to peel it off of her. She lifted her arms in time to avoid doing more than ripping a seam or two, and ran one hand along his chest as the other reached up to grab him by the hair and pull his lips against hers in another demanding kiss. 

The cloth binder across her chest ripped as he grasped it, and he tossed the scrap of cloth aside so that he could palm her breasts, catching each hardening nub between his thumbs and the sides of his fingers to pinch and pull, prompting her to bite his lower lip and draw a deep-seated groan from him. Dropping his hands to her hips, he sought her belts, decided they were too complicated to remove quickly and ripped the leather as if it was _paper_. Tucking his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and panties, he stooped to haul downwards a fulm and she kicked them and her boots off even as she tugged at the waistband of his skirts. 

They came off far easier, whatever underwear he had chosen slipping down as well, and she filed the thought of maybe swapping to skirts herself away for another day. At that moment, she was far too distracted by the way the length of him bobbed slightly in the air, and wrapped her fingers around his girth as he partially straightened and shoved her down onto her knees by both shoulders. 

Fortunately, her shed pants softened the fall, not that she probably would have felt it anyways. She was too busy laving her tongue up along the underside of his cock, stem to tip, and he tucked a hand against the wall and cursed quietly, the other threading fingers through her hair as she glanced up at him, winked, and then took him to the _root_. Holding her breath was _easy_, and she pressed upwards with her tongue, tracing along the underside, as she drew back. 

He hissed a breath out, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils blown when one of her hands gave his sack a gentle squeeze, rolling the orbs in her palm as she continued her bobbing rhythm, hand following along in the wake of her lips to firmly squeeze and drag up and down for several long moments. Nostrils flaring, he hauled back on her hair and she sucked in a breath as he dropped into a crouch and picked her up by the hips, marching the both of them to the table. 

He set her on the edge, leaned around her to sweep his arm across it and knock everything _unimportant_ like the remains of their dinner onto the floor and part of the way across the room only to straighten and hook his arms around her obligingly spread legs, drag her snatch into the air while she braced against the table with her shoulders and got to _work_. He parted her already wet folds and curled his tongue within her, flexing it as he found her clit with a thumb and elicited a moan from her that was almost _gutteral_. She hooked her legs over his shoulders properly and ground against his face when he swapped, mouth closing over her clit and three long, slender fingers curling upwards within her and stroking that hidden sweet spot. 

Her fingers clawed lines into the petrified oak table,and he hummed out an smug sound around the bundle of nerves he had captured and was swirling his tongue around, causing her to swear and cry out his name, clamp her thighs tighter around his head and tip over her peak. He continued, drawing it out until she was bordering _too much_ and decided to anchor herself with her heels against his back. Hauling herself up into a curl, she threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his head back with both hands as he lifted a knee to brace it against the table and keep from toppling forward. She devoured his panting mouth with her own, letting the way she was anchored relax as he pulled on her hips and supported her with his arms. 

He set her down on the table, drawing away for air and opening his mouth to say something before looking mildly surprised as she shoved him back. He caught himself, staggering a step before sitting heavily in the chair that had been pushed away previously. She followed him, straddling his lap with her knees tucked in against the arms of the chair and ducking her head to start to nip and suck at spots along the column of his throat, drawing an almost raw sound out of him as his hands found her hips and kneaded the flesh there with enough force to doubtless leave bruises. The sound was repeated raggedly as he bit his lip, the product of how she shifted up, guided him to her depths and then sank down to take all of him in one smooth movement. 

_"Persephone...!"_

The name was a prayer, a curse and a fervent desire all in one, and she _smirked_ against his neck as she rocked her hips, ground against him and then shifted up. She rolled her hips as she slid back down, and he dragged his hands up her back and chest so that he could haul her head back away from his neck by the hair and indulge in her own, his other hand tracing up along the other side gently in contrast to the way he set his teeth to her.

And then, she started to _cheat_. 

She wasn't the best at reaching out with her aether, but in direct contact with _him_ she could reach out, get his attention and he couldn't _help_ but meet her part way. She was too distracted to do more than _touch_ him like that, but the clumsy way she brushed her soul against his had him crying out as the sensations, physical and aetheric, _blended_. She practically _slapped_ him with her lust, desire flooding his senses as he reciprocated in kind. He was vaguely aware of how he had wrapped his arms around her, bucking upwards and the quiet crunch of breaking wood as she vibrated two syllables through his soul and he peaked. The way she withdrew her aetheric touch as it shifted to love and was tinged with amusement was almost disorienting, and he spent a long moment collecting himself before cracking an eye open to take stock of the room. 

The chair still stood. One of the arms was broken, though, pressed outwards and broken free where it had been attached at the bottom by her leg or his arm, he wasn't sure. Probably her fault, if the way her shoulders were shaking with suppressed mirth was anything to go by. There was food all over the carpet, the bottle of wine had been drinking having rolled half-way across the room and spilling a trail of wine in it's wake. Silverware and plates littered the floor, and the tablecloth was on fire from where the candles had been knocked over atop what of it remained on the table. To top it all off, their clothes were torn and in a pile on the ground, shards of glass littering them along with the brandy she had been sipping.

She grinned at him, and experimentally rolled her hips _just_ enough for him to grab her hips to keep her still. 

"Three minutes." He muttered out, and she snickered and nodded even as she cupped his face with her hands, lifting his chin and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. 

"Does this mean I won the argument?"

"Oh for the love of..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun fact  
General midlander female hyur: (5'2-5'7)  
Emet-Selch: 6'3 (estimated, with slouch, probably 6'6 without)  
WoL: 5'4  
Almost a foot of height between them


	70. In the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that this chapter is marked seventy, yet takes the place of chapter 69.  
I have chapter 69 as a draft, because I'm trying to write smut but I struggle with smut so it's been sitting there for literally ten chapters now but it's chapter -69-. I can't -not-.  
So... It's gunna be a bit.

They tried to fight Hydaelyn. They _tried_, but nothing they did ever -worked- and not only did they have to be careful, because she was tied to the Lifestream, but everything alive was against them. Her voice rang out, vibrating through the air like the soft tone of a bell and the entire world, the world that Zodiark had restored, answered. 

They retreated to Amaurot, pulled back their forces and settled in to _wait_. 

With their magic, they were powerful. With their magic, they erected wards and barriers and sealed their city tightly as trees and birds and bears and the beast tribes threw themselves bodily, willing to die _now_ so that others could live _later_. It was worse than the sacrifice the Amaurotine people had made, if only because it was rife with the same sort of horror and pity that came from watching a bird hit a window and die of a broken neck. 

It only took two days before the ravening hordes that had amassed beyond the wall retreated, bringing their injured with them. Hydaelyn floated in the distance, and with a crystalline thrum called _deeper_. The ground shook, and Zodiark Himself reinforced the walls as tendrils and streams of pale green snaked up to probe at their defenses. 

Emet-Selch floated in a small garden, _the_ small garden, as the ground shook, staring at his reflection as it was distorted by the ripples in the water. It was the last park that remained, the rest having been razed and destroyed when they started swallowing followers of Zodiark. But this one... 

Everything was _sharp._ The grass cut him, so he hovered over it. The tree's bark tore into the palm of his hand when he touched it, so he drifted a short distance away. The frogs stared at him from the other side, buried in their mud banks. A single bird, white with blue banding, sat on a tree branch and watched him. 

He hated it. He _hated_ it with a vehemence but while he was there, Zodiark's voice was softer, quieter, just a little further away. Drowned out by a soundless murmur that he couldn't quite catch. Every time he raised his hand to destroy it, however, he could see glimpses of _her_, up to her ankles in the mud. It _hurt._ It tore at that open, bleeding hole that was every moment that she should have _been_ there. 

Elidibus had told him that Zodiark could feel the conflict in his heart. Their _God_ whispered in his ear that she was better off dead, that she was a traitor, and he would have curled up and covered his ears with his hands and _screamed, oh could he have screamed, for all the good it would have done him_-

But he didn't. He floated. He remembered. He _hurt_. And when he slept, he dreamed. 

It took three days for him to stop caring about the grass. He walked, and not a sound escaped him as it pierced through his boots and drew blood. Two more days, for him to press his back against the tree, resting his head back and barely even wincing as his hair caught on the rough bark and pulled whenever he shifted his head. One more, before he tested the water and found it saturated with _her_ to the point where it was poisonous. 

He wondered how the frogs did it, until he studied them and found them _also_ saturated with her aether. The bird was too. But then again, the bird had always been _special_. _Her_ messenger. _Her_ bearer of bad news. _Her_ ill omen. It stared at him, silent, and avoided all attempts at capture. 

One week was what he spent in that garden, bleeding out his pain to try and offset the way he could barely breath at the best of times for the lump in his throat. That was when Elidibus had found him, shouting from the pavement to try and get him out of there, to try and rouse him. When the Emissary tried to enter the garden, it went _feral_, the tree creaking and groaning as the bulrushes held the Architect hostage until he brushed them away, absentmindedly muttering that it was alright and walked out of his own volition. 

"How did you find this place." It was phrased like a question, but the quiet, flat tone that it was delivered in lacked anything but the barest shred of curiosity. 

"Hythlodaeus. He only gave in today, which was... Surprising. He kept the knowledge from Zodiark, and now pays Penance." Elidibus steepled his fingers gently. "Emet-Selch, we need you. The defenses we have crafted will hold, this is true, but we require a more permanent solution..."

The Emissary trailed off as the cold, black hole that the Architect's soul had become _twitched_. 

"Penance." 

"... Yes." Elidibus ever so gently reached for his connection to Zodiark, silently pleading for patience as he considered just what the foolish, slowly rousing with wrath man could do in a six second span. "He sought to keep important information from Him."

_ **<<Obey.>>** _

The word resonated through Emet-Selch, who slowly lifted his gaze to meet that of the Emissary. "He is my Head Enforcer. You will return him to me, or I will open the doors to the city _myself._"

_ **<<OBEY.>>** _

"No." The word came ever so quietly from the Architect, and he let a humourless smile curl across his face, voice gaining strength even as the compulsion to fold like a lawnchair to the desire of Zodiark clawed at him from the inside. He met it with _pain_. "What will you do, _kill_ me? _Hurt_ me? I do not lie. I will open the doors to the city if you do not return him to me, immediately." 

With that, he turned and strode back into the garden, minorly puzzled at the way the grass no longer stabbed him, and instead cushioned him as he laid back down to _nap_, the voice of his new god an angry, background buzz.

Elidibus returned an hour later with Hythlodaeus, supporting the Head Enforcer before letting him go and watching as he stumbled into the grass. Emet-Selch rolled over, pushed himself up, and went to help his brother over so that they could both sit on the muddy bank of the pond. The Emissary lingered for several long minutes before sighing and retreating a ways up the secluded alley that led to the garden.

"Hades-"

"Hush, Rafail." 

"... It's quiet here. I can't hear... _Him_." 

"Of course. This has ever been _her_ garden. _Our_ garden."

They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the way the water vibrated. 

"I can't protect you. I'm not strong enough. I tried to keep them away-" Hythlodaeus sighed, before reaching up to remove his mask and push back his hood. White hair marked with a streak of purple so dark it was almost black was raked back from his face as he looked to the Architect. 

"_Hush_, Rafail. You will stay here. You will be safe. _Her_ garden will protect you." 

"What about you?"

Hades gave a short, ugly laugh as he pushed himself to his feet. 

"What _about_ me? What can they do to me? What can _anyone_ do to me? She turned herself into a primal and I _still love her_. Yet, to think of betraying Him for Hydaelyn is so utterly _abhorrent_ that I can't-" Emet-Selch hissed out a breath from between his teeth, hands curling into fists as his voice leveled from the near hysteria it had reached. "... No. I will do as I must. I will protect this city, _our_ city. Or I will _die_ trying."

The Architect turned and swept out from the garden to see to the long-term defenses of Amaurot.

* * *

It wasn't enough. Hydaelyn advanced upon the city and tore through the carefully prepared defenses as if they were _tissue paper_. Beasts and beast men flooded the streets, killing everyone they could find with a solemn silence. There were no howls of the Hunt, only a murmured 'I'm sorry' from every mouth that could speak words as another of Zodiark's tempered died. That was not to say that the city did not defend itself, but for every hundred invaders that fell, one of the citizens died. 

And they were _endless_. 

Above, both primals battled, but for every solid blow that Zodiark struck, Hydaelyn struck twice, thrice, and seemed to gain power and momentum with each one. She harried Him, protected by the casting of the Eschaton's Enforceers from the Convocation and the spells they wove and flung to try and drive Her off, to aid their god. It wasn't enough. Their forces were scattered, and as Emet-Selch moved to try and intercept another pack of silent wolves a set of talons slammed into him and drove him face-first against the closest building. 

A surge of his aether sent lances of purple-tinged crystal arching backwards, and whatever beast it was that had hit him was driven back. Pushing himself up, clutching his head and fighting the dizziness that suffused him, he stared at the familiar form of Zeus's Gryphon. 

"You were supposed to _protect_ her, when she could not protect herself." The beak opened, words growling out as swan wings fanned the air. "You were supposed to be the law to her chaos. You-!" 

A white bird, banded with blue fluttered down and settled on the Architect's shoulder. Zeus faltered, before shaking his head slowly. "... Of course. Not even he could have, could he. Oh, but I should have named you _Icarus_..."

Emet-Selch took the opportunity to swing with his staff, catching the Gryphon across the shoulder and sending him careening across the street and through the wall of the building that sat there. He didn't get back up, though the bird did flutter away. He tracked it with his eyes and watched as the bird became three, two of them careening away while it beat it's wings and _stared_ at him. He rubbed his eyes, only to glance at the direction the others had gone. 

The Convocation members. He had to hurry-

Pain lanced through him, as Zodiark _screamed_, and for a brief, horrible moment he could see Hydaelyn above, feel the rending, tearing pain as the secondary impact of meeting the ground rattled him, and then he was blinded by the searing light that exploded outwards. 

Soft feathers touched his cheek, and blissful darkness took him. 

* * *

When he awoke, he was alive and the bird was _dead_. Wings splayed, stretched out across his chest, he ever so carefully scooped it up and then cursed as it started to disintegrate into wisps of aether. Of _her_ aether. 

"No, no-no no _no_..." He clutched frantically, trying to grip it tighter, but it slipped through his fingers and left him hissing even as he pushed himself up and looked around. The city was destroyed, leveled, and as he looked over at where Zeus had been, found the spot curiously empty until he realized that the former Eschaton had very likely taken to hunting down the other Convocation members.

He turned and ran, making it to the edge of the center of the city. The Capital was _gone_. Zodiark was _gone_. A crater stood empty where that section had once flourished. Movement caught his eye, and he hurried over to pull a groggy, groaning Elidibus from the rubble even as Lahabrea emerged, limping from an alley.

"What happened." The Speaker rasped, leaning heavily on his trident as he reached up to press a hand to his head, shaking it slowly. 

"I don't... Know." Elidibus nodded to Emet-Selch in thanks as he surveyed the area. Hydaelyn appears to have... Retreated." 

"And Zodiark?" Lahabrea tucked the hand to his chest now. "I can feel him, but he is... Silent."

The Emissary focused for a moment, before frowning and looking _up_. 

There, above them, set high in the sky sat a satelite. A _moon_. And as he slowly pointed to confirm with a shaking hand the Architect could only stare in growing horror as the implications hit him when Elidibus mutely nodded. 

"We... We have to find the others." The Speaker turned, looking around, casting about with his aether for anyone, anyone at all and looking bewildered when he found only the faintest, tiniest flickers of souls scattered about, dotting the landscape.

"Split up. We will meet back here with our findings. We must understand what Hydaelyn has done."

"Hydaelyn? Don't you mean Eschaton!? If _Emet-Selch_ had been able to convince her properly then none of this would have happened-"

The Architect didn't care to hear any more. He turned and left, ignoring the way the Emissary reached out to bar the snarling Speaker's path.

"Let him go, Lahabrea. We will speak more of this later."

* * *

It took them ten years of theory work and exhausting leads before they finally figured out what had _really_ happened. Ten years of ignoring Lahabrea's pointed looks and the Emissary's intervention. In that time, Emet-Selch rebuilt the city, cleaned it up, and stared at the empty buildings that once more filled where the crater had been. The worst part of it was how _rapidly_ they were forced to watch everyone age. A decade was hardly any time at all, and already everyone save for the three Convocation members that were still whole was... Was _old_. Like animals, they had greyed far too quickly and started _forgetting _ things. Simple things. Easy things. Within that decade, what was left of their people had started to drop like _flies_. 

Even Hythlodaeus, for all that he never left the garden was starting to physically slow down, face becoming lined with wrinkles. It was slower, for him, but Hades privately felt that was likely because the garden itself was sustaining him. Emet-Selch spent more and more time simply visiting, and less and less time doing whatever it was that was asked of him as he slowly watched the man that was essentially his twin wither and die. They both knew when his End was upon him, in the thirteenth year, and he leaned back against the tree as he watched the Architect putter around, trying to ignore the obvious. A flicker of movement caught the retired Enforcer's attention, and he peered upwards at it as his eyes widened. 

"Hades..." His voice was a tired, excited rasp, and Emet-Selch stopped talking about the little things to glance over and then follow the shaking, wrinkled hand as Rafail pointed upwards. It was a bird, white with blue banding, and it came fluttering down to land on his outstretched fingers. "Hades look. She... She came back." 

The bird tilted it's head, studying Hythlodaeus before turning and looking towards Emet-selch. Hopping lightly, it flit upwards to perch in the tree and then took to the sky, angling upwards to escape between the buildings. 

"You... Go on. I'll... I'll be here when you get back." A tired smile was given to the Architect as his hand dropped onto his lap, blinking as he received a glare in return. "She's waiting for you."

"No. She ruined _everything_. I'm not _leaving_ you-"

"Hades." Rafail closed his eyes, sighing. "You're being an idiot. She bought me three more years than everyone else. Three whole years. It's time. You need... You need to let me _go_."

"Rafail-" Pale gold eyes snapped back open to meet pale gold, and Hythlodaeus stared his best friend down. 

"You don't need... To hold my hand. I'm not afraid. Go." 

The Architect hesitated, before leaning in to give the aged Amaurotine a hug, and then he was drifting upwards and chasing after the bird as it circled one final time and shot off towards the east. Rafail watched him go, tipping his head back to enjoy the sunlight as it streamed down and warmed him. The grass was soft, and soon enough he found himself dozing, drifting...

* * *

Of course it was _birds_. 

Following his 'guide', he came across a particularly large flock of beast men and ignored the way they cowered in his presence. They had legends, stories already of the fight between Hydaelyn and Zodiark, and while none dared to challenge him they raised quite a ruckus as he touched down and stared at the pale white figure that was cooing happily and flexing tiny taloned hands and feet from where she lay in her nest. Solid-colour black eyes blinked at him, the tiny feathered crest that formed her hair poofing up and a tiny pair of wings shifting and fluttering at her sides. 

But it was _her_. The bird that touched down near by before dissipating was proof enough, even beyond the way the bare slivers of her soul that held the bluest cerulean and ultramarine hues, washed out and faded like once-vibrant curtains left out in the sun for too long. He stared at her, and she stared back, cooing and stuffing her fingers into her mouth, the green tint to her feathers shifting to purples and golds as she _giggled_. 

He saw again in his mind's eye as she plummeted off a cliff. He saw Hydaelyn impact with Zodiark. He saw every moment they had spent together in the garden and the cold, hard _nothing_ she had given him with his ultimatum. 

He could kill her, he mused, and the part of him that was tied up with his tempering reveled at that. But, the rest of him... 

Lifting one hand, he reached out and carefully scooped the infant up, watching as she wiggled in his grasp and hummed an ascending third. 

"I _hate_ you. But if there was ever anyone that could tell us how to reverse what you have done..." Trailing off, he stared with wide-eyes as a Gryphon stepped out of the shadows and _stared_ at him. Defensively, he tucked the child closer to him and extended one hand out, ready to cast, ready to dodge, ready to-

The Gryphon trilled softly, drawing an answering coo from _her_ where she was partially squished against his side, and turned to walk away. She waved, and then looked up at him expectantly as he sighed. 

"Well now. Shall we be off, Persephone?"

Her crest flexed, and she hummed out another ascending third as he drifted upwards and slowly made his way back to Amaurot. 


	71. My Beer : (

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which -something- finally catches up with the Warrior that has been dogging her for a wee little bit of time now, and Urianger proves to be the real hero once more.

"-And if you _don't_ go, then _I_ have to, and I have far better things with which to spend my time!" Emet-Selch stared at the tiny dragon that was growling, snarling and hissing at him, arms folded. She paused just inside the door to the Rising Stones and blinked, surveying the scene before her even as she tilted her head. 

"Oi! Lahabrea! Do what he says!" 

_[-No-. I'm staying **right here** and-]_

"Why? What's here that's so important?" The Warrior wandered over, blinking curiously as the Speaker flared his wings. 

_[... Elidibus. They are -going- to attack again. He can't take all of them, not while protecting everyone, and he refuses to leave. **Someone** has to make sure he stays safe.]_

"Oh. Fair point, that. Say, Emissary, what's so important about here that's keeping you here, anyways? You practically killed yourself to get here." She blinked at the white-robed Ascian as he slowly lowered his bottle of beer. 

"Mistress Tataru's information network. I can coordinate far more effectively from here, and be of proper assistance." 

"Right. So why don't I we give you one of the linkpearls and then you, Igeyorhm and Lahabrea go to Azys Lla together while Emmerololth stays here to keep an eye on things?" She shrugged, stretching and tucking her hands behind her head. "It's not like we're not all on the same side at the moment, and you can use it to keep in touch with her in the mean time. Sure, it's not the _best_ situation, but it covers all the necessities. You guarded, you able to keep in contact with Tataru, and Azys Lla staffed and being worked on to prepare for the Ascians we're going to need to house there. 'Less, of course, the Speaker has something to say about his own people getting stuck without anywhere to _live_."

"If I travel to Azys Lla, they will very likely note my location, drawing them away from the people of Revenant's Toll." The Emissary conceded the point, looking to Lahabrea who was silent for a moment before spitting out a sigh. 

_[Fine.]_

"Take Urianger with you, too. You lot still need to work on ways to sunder souls free of the moon, after all-"

"We may have some semblance of a solution." The elezen in question looked up from where he was idly shuffling his cards. "Thou hath deigned to share with me the basic premise of this ability. We believe that all such would require is physical contact with Zodiark and the ability to differentiate the aether of the primal from the souls that thusly do bulk his form." 

"Ohh I've been working on that. So we've got practically all that we need. Emet-Selch's gunna collect them and bring them back to Azys Lla."

"There are, of course, a few potentially minor issues. One, while both Emmerololth and myself were able to approach the moon without immediately being re-tempered, He was reaching out to me while I collected my effects. Emet-Selch, for all his great strength, will need to simultaneously fight this temptation at such a close proximity as to prevent the slumbering primal from simply reabsorbing the souls and aether as well as ensure he is able to check each individual soul for the same. Once you strike Him, there is also the chance that he will simply prematurely awaken. One fourteenth of Zodiark is still the combined might of nearly twenty thousand whole Amaurotine souls." Elidibus lifted his drink once more, studying it.

She squinted, and then peered over at the Architect. "How many whole Amaurotine people do you think you could take at once?"

"Not nearly that many, as much as I might detest admitting such." Grimacing, Emet-Selch hunched his shoulders. "I _am_ a Convocation member, however there comes a point where there are simply too many foes to fight. I also hesitate to fight such, in the event that I might damage some of the citizenry."

"Right. So I gotta make the first strike _count_, then. Wait. What's... eight times almost twenty thousand?" She squinted, and the Architect rolled his eyes. 

"One hundred, fourty two thousand, eight hundred and fifty seven. Rounded down." 

"Well, when you put it like that working on the ones on the other shards certainly seems _easy_, don't it." The Warrior beamed, and Emet-Selch couldn't help but narrow his eyes and feel like he'd just been had somehow. "Oh don't be like that. Doing the impossible's sort've my job at this point, isn't it. I just gotta hit a bloody big chunk of sleeping primal crystal in such a way to cleave seventeen thousand, eight hundred and fifty six souls out into that many chunks without losing any bits or missing or waking said primal up. One shot, one, uhh... Not quite kill."

_[Did... Did she just do math with figures greater than two digits? Without using her fingers or toes?]_

The Architect simply stared, looking concerned before she waved a hand. "Which reminds me, if we cut all these folks out, does that mean Zodiark dies or does he keep going or-"

"She must have _cheated_ some how. 'Twas no cringe to her aether to indicate an Echo." Emet-Selch stepped up, leaning to peer at her closely as she grinned crookedly. 

"My secret, that. Anywho, big question there, yeah? Is there anything bad going to happen to the star if we do this?" 

"Emet-Selch is the only individual who may have the ability to test that, and only should he carry multiple souls and then stand still, pretending to be asleep as you cleave into him. Not something I believe any individual would wish to test, at this point in time." Elidibus coughed politely. 

"Urianger flashed you hand signals to give you that number, didn't he." The Architect narrowed his eyes, and she heaved a sigh. 

"Yes, okay, fine! Serves me right for trying to sound like I could _keep up!" _Throwing her hands in the air, the Warrior circled around Emet-Selch and threw herself into a chair, slumping and reaching to steal the Emissary's beer out of his hand and take a drink. "How in the seven _hells_ did you even figure that out? He's sitting behind _everyone._"

"His aether was amused and the sound of the cards he was shuffling paused for a moment." Stalking over, he pulled the stolen beer from her hands and drank the rest of it, leaving Elidibus to sigh and turn, waving to F'lhaminn to silently ask for another beer. "There is also the matter that the senses of an Ascian do not strictly rely upon unidirectional sight. Regarding what it will do to Zodiark and the Star... Well, theoretically it should leave him hollow, empty, a shell. Eschaton's sundering ability is based heavily upon cellular division, after all, which splits while leaving both results alive."

"I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood that." The replacement beer touched down, and the Emissary reached for it only to pause as she stood, stole it and took a swig. Turning, he gave the miqo'te a pleading look, and she smiled and went to fetch him another. "'Cause, y'know, I'm too _stupid_ to be able to mentally contribute to a conversation without it being _cheating_." 

"You _did_ cheat, though-"

"That's not the _point!_" The Warrior shook the beer in Emet-Selch's face, only for him to snag it and hold it up out of her reach. The next beer delivered to Elidibus didn't even touch the table, snatched out of F'lhaminn's hand before it touched down so that the Warrior could go right back to shaking a beverage in the Architect's face. A long suffering sigh escaped the Emissary as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, weaving his fingers together. "The point is that you don't think I can do it!" 

"Where on _Hydaelyn_ is this coming from, little Monster? You have _never_ done aught but make jokes at the expense of your own intelligence in the past, aware of your own limitations." Bewildered, Hades leaned back to avoid the bottle, still holding the other overhead out of her immediate reach.

"It's one thing to joke about it, it's another to actually _think_ I'm bloody well _handicapped!_" She was shouting now, the words ringing through the air as Elidibus just sort of sat there, made awkward by their proximity. He quietly cleared his throat as she continued. "I've basically followed everything explained to me!"

"Eschaton, as much as such is not my place to interfere-" A hand settled on the Emissary's shoulder, and he glanced to see Urianger had stepped up and was weaving his way between the still baffled Ascian and the Warrior. 

"Priscilla, thou knows that such was not his intent. Thou knows also that thy time is often filled with serious, stressful things. 'Tis not this thing that thou art truly frustrated with, is it."

She glowered at the elezen, who simply offered a faint smile. 

"No. I thought not. 'Tis a heavy responsibility, and thou shalt not be begrudged thy methods of stress relief provided they are not pointed _and_ barbed. The weight of this thing, I should not wish upon any. Thou hast saved Norvrandt, despite the disdain within thy heart and mind at the title of 'hero'. Thou does these things because such is thy burden. Thy attempt to rise to the occasion, and the subsequent failure as thy paramour picked apart our deception, was simply the proverbial final straw. Thou art going through _withdrawl_. How long hath it been since thy carried a proper, full flask?"

The Warrior didn't answer. 

"I... Gave you one, in my vaults. Did you not drink it?" Emet-Selch slowly lowered the beer, and Elidibus took the opportunity to gently tug it from his hand so that he could have a drink. 

"While thou may have done this thing, consider such. Instead of spending her time here, drinking, carousing and relieving stress she hath spent the majority, nay, very nearly the entirety of her time within thy presence." Turning slightly to glance at the Architect, Urianger offered him a faint smile before looking back at the Warrior. "Thou art attempting to greatly lessen thy intake, to essentially 'clean thyself up' for him. I have observed such, because thou began to take greater care with thy appearance and general hygiene shortly after he became thy paramour."

She was slowly turning red under the mask that covered the upper half of her face, and instead of answering she simply turned and stormed towards the door. 

"Little Mons-"

"Patience, Emet-Selch." The Astrologian caught the Architect by the shoulder as he turned and started to follow. Pale gold eyes met pale gold, and the elezen shook his head. "Give her time. A bell or so, should suffice. Do not bring alcohol. Do not speak of alcohol. She will not be ready for such until the passing of the night unto the dawn. The first time this subject must be broached must be done so by her, and shall begin with an apology." 

He frowned, but nodded slowly, gears already turning in his mind.

* * *

Emet-Selch carefully adjusted his grip on the small basket of sandwiches he had actually made by _hand_. It had been a simple matter of teleporting about and collecting the ingredients before returning and borrowing the use of the kitchen. From there, once everything was finished, it was a brief connection to the tiny bit of himself that still lingered, strapped to her forearm, and he was surprised when he drifted out of the rift and found her sitting atop the slowly decaying head of Midgardsormr, knees drawn up to her chest. as she stared moodily out to the lake with her mask set neatly atop the scarf that was folded and rested next to her. 

Advice in mind, he simply drifted over and sat down next to her, tucking the basket between them. He didn't speak. He didn't make any motion to touch her, to solicit attention or affection, choosing instead to give her the time to deal with the way her aether cringed away from him and twisted around itself, sullen and pointedly sharp. Flight or fight, she had said to Estinien. He realized she understood the elezen so well because they shared a number of similarities.

The sun finished passing below the horizon. The stars wheeled overhead. Emet-Selch eventually laid back and pillowed his head on his hands, analyzing the various scents on the air. It didn't reek anywhere near what he had expected. Certainly, there was a faint sweet hint of decay and rot, but the dragon hadn't been of their Star. As such, he was largely outside of the cycle, and physically broke down slowly, if at all as the ambient aether was absorbed and released from the corpse. No, more prominent was the smell of rust, and-

"Why're you _here_." 

"You haven't eaten anything all day. I thought you might be hungry." A half-truth. Testing the waters, so to speak. He continued to watch the stars, expression unchanging as she begrudgingly rooted through the basket and paused. 

"... You... Did you...?" Uncertainty laced her quiet tone, and he finally let himself smile as the faintest traces of warmth almost shyly started to suffuse her soul, radiating outwards. 

"Once, you asked me to craft you a sandwich, or to conjure one. I did neither. Instead, I _transmuted_ one." He was really splitting hairs now, but the quiet contemplation that started to coil through her was starting to soften the barbed, jagged way her soul was defensively presented was worth it. Slowly, he glanced over to see her staring down at the sandwich in her hands before the soft smile that had started across his face began to grow. After a quiet moment, she tentatively took a bite, chewing slowly. "One can learn a great many things about you, when they stop to truly consider your eating habits." 

She didn't so much as glance over, but he could see the way her soul shifted slightly, attentively, and so he continued. "You will rather literally eat anything presented as food, without too much in the way of a complaint. However, the simple things, the things that those who do not have much and yet poured their heart into making for you, these things you _savour_. Even the pie that you shared with me in the Rak'tika Greatwoods was savoured, for all that it was shared and rushed, which truly speaks of the high honour you bestowed upon me by the offer." 

"... Was just a pie..." 

"Was it? To most, perhaps. To the one that made it, the time and effort they put into the gathering of the materials and the make-shift oven that it was baked within, it was their pride and joy and heartfelt thanks. Knowing you, you very likely replaced the pie you stole with the ingredients for another. I theorize such due to how you very specifically said that you would now have _two_ pies, and there was no plausible, feasible way for them to gather the ingredients and bake a replacement in time for the ceremony you attended in honour of the piece of jade that you returned to them." Turning his gaze back up to the stars, Emet-Selch hummed quietly. "Yes, such is the most likely of scenarios. You are not cruel, not in that manner, not when it comes to the goodwill and efforts of those who truly put their all into even the smallest, simplest of tasks. The less someone has, the more what they have given to you _means_."

The Warrior didn't respond, simply eating the sandwich one slow, careful bite after the other. Almost idly, she separated the two pieces of bread to study the filling in the dim light provided by the stars. Still, the compacted state of her soul was relaxing with each word he spoke, and he continued to do so easily. He was an Ascian. Even he had to admit that his own people tended to _ramble_ if given the chance.

"And yet, I have a great many _things_. The Exarch too, has a great many _things_, yet his sandwiches were practically squealed over and immediately shared. A separate angle. A different meaning, and reason. For all that he could have had someone else put in all the effort for him, instead he did it all _himself_. He grew the tomatos in his ridiculous garden planted around Xander's throne. He made the bread by hand, and baked it. The only thing that went into them that was not directly made by the Exarch was the _mayonnaise_, which even I will admit is devilishly tricky to produce properly with such rudimentary tools as he must needs use in the Crystarium, considering the kitchens within the Crystal tower are absolutely _dreadful_. And I would know."

"These things _tickle _you, appeal to you far more than any grand, towering structure I could design or any empire I could feasibly offer. Once, I built you the Hanging Gardens, but only so that they could serve as just that. A garden, that you and all those you cherished could plant whatever tickled your fancy, tend to everything with everyone else, a communal effort. What Amaurot _should_ have been, save for the industrialization and urge for efficiency over nearly everything else that was also coupled with the poised, quiet gliding that was meant to come across as educated and superior." 

"... They always _did_ seem stuffy and patronizing, if well intentioned." 

"Naturally. The art of Debate was highly sought after. 'Tis something of a game, that we still sometimes engage in, instead of such activities that you might find more enjoyable such as finding ways to dye people's robes while they still yet wear them." Deeming the situation safe enough, Emet-Selch shifted the basket so that it sat to his left so that he could reach out and tug her over and pillow her head against his chest. She flopped over obligingly, minding the crust of the sandwich and nibbling away on it. "... I love you, little Monster." 

"... I know, Hades." She sounded _tired_, and he was reminded of the worn down, ragged state he had seen her in before Hydaelyn's summoning. "And... I love you too."

They stayed like that, watching the stars as she slowly worked her way through every single one of the egg salad sandwiches he had made until the sky began to brighten to the east. 


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to know, that when I talk about alcoholism in this chapter I am not trying to downplay a serious issue. Nor am I trying to make it seem 'okay', or demean anyone's efforts to overcome their own tendency to drink. I'm fond of mcguinnes cherry brandy myself, though I only drink rarely, and my roommate is a recovering alcoholic. I've seen how difficult the struggle can be.  
I'm also not trying to say that booze is evil. Just as with all things, moderation is key. It's okay to drink, it's when it's done in excess that socially acceptable lines start to get... Blurry.  
For Priscilla, it's been a coping mechanism for as long as she can remember regarding her current lifetime. I like to think that, now that Hades is filling that hole her soul was subconsciously aware of, she has less reason to rely on it.  
If you are someone who feels they drink in excess and and are working to lessen your intake, you can do it! Keep working at it, one day at a time!  
You've got this!

"... I'm sorry, you know. I didn't mean to snap at you." The words were quiet, and he cracked an eye open to check the sky. Shortly after dawn. He would have to have a little chat with Urianger regarding his ability to predict these things and see what else he might be able to divine. 

"I know. Quite honestly I find myself more amused at how Elidibus was prevented from drinking for so long and the muffled agitation that roiled through him every time you took his beer." 

"That... Was kinda funny, wasn't it." The Warrior smiled slightly, idly watching the sunrise. 

"I _have_ noticed, you know. Your efforts." He idly ran his hand along her arm as she partially curled, enjoying the way embarrassment danced along her aether. 

"I mean... I just thought... Yeah, it's just a _body_, a _vessel_, but you still interact with it. And you always seem so put together, so... I dunno. I didn't want to make you _embarrassed_ to go places with me. Just because _I_ don't really care about myself doesn't mean..." She trailed off, grumbling under her breath as he huffed out an amused sound. 

"_Embarrassed_ to go places with you? Oh for the love of..." Rolling his eyes, Emet-Selch ruffled her uneven hair and pitched his voice into a lilting drawl, trying to aggravate something other than sullen embarrassment from her. "You _do_ realize that I care little for the opinions of the masses, correct? I am largely, in their eyes, an immortal body-hopping _demon_ with a penchant for skirts and sarcasm that founded an imperialistic nation that favours _pants_ for the purpose of starting wars and the fact that I _can_. A mass-murdering, star-ending _lunatic_, to those who know such. Who are you trying to impress, the other _Ascians_?"

"Look, if I _knew_ and wasn't just going off vague feelings and _winging_ it, I'd tell you. It just makes me uncomfortable, standing next to you looking like you dug me out've the trash like I was some sort of _gremlin_." She groused, before sitting up and folding her arms. She didn't get very far, considering he reached out and pulled her back down so that he could bodily haul her atop him and catch her chin with a finger and thumb. She fought only briefly, giving up with a glower.

"You _really_ don't know, do you. My little Monster, spending so much of her life thinking of her body and her self as a tool, as a _weapon_ that she utterly misses the cues and pointed moments where she began to realize she was oh so much _more_ than that. Winging it? When have you _ever_ done aught else when it came to yourself? You identify as female, are coming into your own as a proper _woman_ and utterly lack a female role model to guide your steps. You may _feel_ as though you are floundering, but you are swimming with the very _best_ of them. And I _do_ mean that." He caught her eye, smugly enjoying the way she was starting to pink across the cheeks. "But, most importantly, above and beyond all the powders, paints and eyeliners in the world and across the generations, what matters to me is that you stay true to yourself. You are _rough_, 'tis true. There is no denying this. However, who is to say that such is not beautiful in and of itself? Do I _appreciate_ that you take the opportunity to shower when and where you can? Naturally. But I have also done my fair share of wading through the dirt and grime and blood of battle, and so I cannot begrudge you the results of such exertions. You _know_ what Garlean armor is like." 

She mulled it over, before sighing. "Alright, alright, I get it-"

"Like the flower atop a cactus. Certainly, you may bloom _years_ later than most atypical tropical flowers, but yours is a fight for survival, and the rarity of such an occasion is a treat unto itself." Emet-Selch interrupted her, speaking loftily and smirking as she narrowed her eyes at him even as he let go of her chin in favour of brushing his fingers through her hair. 

"Yeah, okay, I-"

"Or like a dragon. Majestic, graceful, powerful. All hips and a growl that would rumble through the bones of any lesser mortal-" She rolled her eyes in exasperation, before shifting enough that she could shut him up with a kiss, to which he indulged for a moment and then immediately resumed when she shifted back. "-To which, I am _certain_ that the Guardian of the Lake appreciates us having this little heartfelt moment atop the head of his _corpse_."

"I dunno, I could always ask him." She grinned at him, and he grimaced. "What. _You_ brought it up. He's got a surprisingly comfy corpse."

"Was it _my_ decision to flee here? No. No it most certainly was _not_."

"I'll take it as a mark of your affection that you braved it for me, then."

He huffed in response, curling an arm around her and settling his hand against her lower back. "You had _better_."

* * *

"Oh hey, I've got a question." 

Hand in hand, they both made their way up from the lake, picking their way across the rock and cermet-strewn beach. Emet-Selch hummed inquisitively, idly swinging the basket held in his other hand.

"So, if you don't lie, how do you get away with sarcasm?"

"You are thinking entirely too literally. Truth is determined by a mix of intent and knowledge. I can stare at you and say, in an utterly deadpan tone as I hand you a blue pen that such is, in fact, a red pen, however I cannot make any true attempt to _convince_ you of such. I can state that three plus two equals four, not five, provided I am using it as an example, a metaphor or sassing someone by utilizing it in an attempt to minorly insult their intelligence. But I would find myself in quite a bit of pain should I go to a child and attempt to teach them thus as if such was a solemn truth. Still, most truth is said in jest. 'Tis not some super power, where I might say random things and verify the truth of them by whether or not such pained me to say. Believe you me, when I was first afflicted with such I _tried_." He side-eyed a rather large snake that was curled up under a fallen panel of Garlean metal, watching as it coiled and slunk further into the darkness of it's home. "This is not to say that there are times when I need not be careful with what I say. I have been _bitten_ by such in the past. When I state something as an _opinion_, should my stance on a matter change this does not mean that I have _lied_. Simply that the circumstances of such have been altered with new information brought to light."

"Afflicted?" 

"There are pros and cons, boons and drawbacks to each and every title. Some are more manageable than others. I never _did_ learn what any of yours were, as Eschaton." Idly, Emet-Selch ducked to get under a piece of broken hull as they continued up the hill. "I am _burdened_ by the truth, not the _embodiment_ of it." 

"Huh. So... What happens when you _do_ lie? I'm hearing a lot of 'pained' but no 'impossible'." She peered at him curiously, and he looked thoughtful. 

"Such depends upon the severity of the lie. For example, if I attempted to convince you that I wanted nothing more than to roll you over and fuck you into Midgardsormr's forehead, I would get a stabbing pain through my aether and my vessel would get a nosebleed. If I attempted to lie the way the Exarch did atop mount Gulg, I would very likely be physically and aetherically crippled by the pain. Such depends upon how untrue the statement or attempt _is_."

"So... You _would_ have possibly fucked me into the dead dragon's forehead. There's a chance, because it's not outright something utterly counter to your intentions." 

Nose wrinkling as he grimaced, Emet-Selch sighed. "Well, _yes_ if you truly must know. But I would have neither particularly _enjoyed_ it nor wanted to. However, for you? Little Monster, I could be _convinced_. I can overlook a great deal when it comes to _you_." 

She snickered, and squeezed his hand gently.

* * *

Eventually, they made their way back to the Rising Stones to find that Igeyorhm, Lahabrea and Elidibus had already set out after Tataru gave the Emissary a linkpearl. Emmerololth was nowhere to be seen, but Emet-Selch confirmed that she was still in the area. They ate a quick breakfast before retiring to the Warrior's rooms to get some proper sleep, and she was almost out before she even hit the bed. The Ascian snapped his fingers to idly send her clothes and gear into a haphazard pile onto the chair, before starting to shed his own clothes and stretching out next to her. Almost automatically, she rolled over and curled into his side, muttering a sub-vocal sound that could have been anything as she inhaled deeply and then sighed herself contently back into proper unconsciousness. 

He hadn't lied. There had been a marked uptick in how frequently she washed her clothes and took the time to tend to basic hygiene. What _had_ escaped his notice, however, was the apparent marked reduction in how much she had been drinking. He couldn't _entirely_ be to blame, however. Or so he tried to tell himself. How was _he_ supposed to know how much she had consumed before? 

The times they had visited the bars in Garlemald and all the stories she had told him, all the little signs, all the hints and tips she had slid into conversations. She hadn't exactly been... Subtle, about it. Echo bothered her? She entered a nigh-constant state of buzzed. Mourning the elezen that had died? A self proclaimed _unhealthy_ amount of alcohol. Not to mention the insane tolerance she had built up to it, as seen by the wine they had shared in the First. 

And she was attempting to drink _less_. For _him_. The thought filled him with a warmth as he weighed the likelyhood that she found him more addicting than her standard go-to versus countless examples of how raging alcoholism could damage relationships. 

He should have paid more attention. But she tended towards _stoic_ when it came to the things that ailed her, and her aether didn't reflect if she had a _cold_ let alone was suffering. It tended to portray her emotional state, more than anything. Grimacing to himself, he tilted his head and studied her as she slept. 

Hers was a face that told a story. Slightly larger than average eyes, closed now in repose and possessed of full lashes that framed and drew attention to blue hues wrapped in hard-edged steel grey. Full ashen-blond eyebrows that expressively furrowed, quirked and waggled as she spoke, relaxed in slumber. A thin, small nose that ended with a pert little upturn at the end, straight across the slightly thickened bridge only through either luck or a practiced hand when it came to setting it straight and attached to that nostrils that would flare when she got _excited_. Small lips with a mouth that could stretch wide to allow the passing of such entrancing sounds as laughter or press into a thin, angry line when agitated. Pale slivers of scars, one angled across one eye to the eyebrow and another across the bridge of her nose that caught his eye and made him want to reach out and trace them with a finger, torn between the urge to overwrite whatever pain she had felt with their birth with his touch and demanding to know who it was he needed to turn _inside out_ for daring to mark her so.

Her hair was a clean mass of uneven sections, never seeming the same length in two different spots, and he could spend _hours_ trying to find two sections that matched. He had, in fact. It was growing out somewhat, considering there had yet to be any fire or damage to it in the passing months. Idly, Hades wondered if she was going to consider evening it out, and didn't quite know how to feel about it. It_ suited_ her. Then again, he felt he could very easily say _anything_ suited her. She could shave her head _bald_ and he was certain he would find something he enjoyed about it, even if such was only how much _fun_ it would be to constantly tease her by rubbing it for 'luck'. Oh, he would _miss_ her hair, but she could always regrow it.

Her ears were _adorable_. Surprisingly small things, often hidden by her hair and entirely nibbleable. The lobes connected to the back of her jaw, which he supposed was why she didn't tend to wear her linkpearl unless she needed it. Without a free hanging lobe she might have found it uncomfortable. A recessive gene, he recalled, and brushed the knowledge aside even as he continued to study her. 

Sturdy shoulders that were naturally rounded and stubbornly refused to droop any further beyond a certain point. Thick-knuckled, calloused hands that were surprisingly small, dexterous and lined with tiny slivers of scars that told the tale of countless scrapes, intentional and otherwise. More prone to curling in her sleep than laying flat, it was as if even unconscious she was gripping tight to something and refusing to let go. Faded tan lines across her biceps. The lean build of someone that life didn't give much of a chance to build up a solid layer of fat. The legs of a sprinter. The arms of a climber. The heart of the _End_.

That it was only a vessel didn't matter. It was _her_ vessel. Meat-sack jokes aside, it was the way she interacted with the world, her first line of feedback. This made it _important_ and something to be cherished. 

Idly, he traced his fingers along some of the scars, watching as she shifted slightly and then sighed. That was part of the trick to it. Let her partially rouse, let her subconscious register the movement, the action as non-lethal, as _safe_, and she would go back to sleep unless some new stimuli entered her area of awareness. 

Zodiark's Mercy, but he was a _fool_ in _love_. She was the light he could hold up all of his dark thoughts to, and she would find a way to make it _right_. She might not forgive him for everything, but she was willing to give him the chance to earn such. She was _alive_, vibrant and for all that her soul had gaping holes in it and was a cracked, fragmented thing it still entranced him. The most impossible, bluest blue. Cobalt and ultramarine, wrapped with silver. Faded, yes, _but_...

Possessed of an uncommon strength. Not an infallible strength, but an uncommon one nonetheless. She might not last as long as him, but she was determined to make every instant become eon. She was a storm that had swept him up, and here he was willingly throwing himself into the gale winds trusting her to carry him safely. 

It was _silly_, really. However, when he thought about it in terms of how much time any of them truly had left it was easier to ignore the prospect the decades that might come _after_. Hydaelyn had been adamant that something was going to happen in the Warrior's lifetime, that Priscilla was going to be the last one way or another. Something was _coming_. 

Could Hydaelyn see the future? Unlikely. However, if the Warrior could tell when, within their secret heart of hearts someone _wanted_ to die, it made sense that-

Emet-Selch paused as a thought occurred to him. What was the saying, an old coeurl sensing their end? The goal of all tempered Ascians was to bring about calamities. Generally that meant a Shard to Source transference of aether of a specific element. He had thought that their choice of blueprints was _odd_, but, when viewed from a certain angle, _cannoning_ the aether of a Shard into the Source would certainly do something similar. One major problem, however, was that if all life on the Shard was wiped out, then they would have nothing to work with beyond what they produced with their creation magics. Such was why they tended to space their calamities out if they could. Elidibus had pressured the others to work faster, to try and urge another calamity hot on the heels of the release of Bahamut. And a resonance would _certainly_ be able to act as a guidance system, a method to aim with, if nothing else, strengthening the connection between each Shard and the Source. 

Everyone, and everything, was going to _die_. All that would be left would be raw aether and the untouched moon that drifted separate from the Star.

"Little Monster." He jostled her, drawing a tired grunt as she slowly blinked her eyes open and peered at him groggily. "Little Monster we have a _problem_."


	73. In pursuit of sleep

After a brief conversation, which she wasn't quite coherent for, Emet-Selch gave up and simply threw her over his shoulder before stepped through a rift to Azys Lla. He was pleased to find that the drones he had sent were already working on repairing things as needed, getting the functions that had failed or gone haywire back on track. There were fewer monsters about as well, though the Architect felt that more had to do with the fact that Lahabrea was actively hunting them for something to do than any true effort of the basic defenses that the location had been fitted with. 

That close, he was able to retreat to his chosen rooms with the Warrior and curl up with her even as he sent another vessel out to find where Elidibus was scrolling through the data banks and cleaning out anything unnecessary, compiling a list of improvements he thought might be necessary. As the Architect joined him, he turned slightly and nodded his head politely, not quite looking away from his work. 

"Emissary."

"Architect."

"We have a_ problem_."

Elidibus didn't pause typing, though he did tilt his head slightly to the side. "Is it that Pashtarot and Halmarut are overdue to check in?" 

Emet-Selch paused. "... It was not, but that is _also_ a problem. I believe I may have grasped an understanding of what, exactly, the tempered Ascians intend to do. Do you recall the sixth incarnation of the Ardor that we devised?"

"I do. If I recall correctly, such was doomed to fail due to how proverbially shooting the Source with each of the shards in rapid succession was more likely to punch a hole through it and destroy it, rather than properly rejoin the aether." The Emissary leaned slightly to remove the datastick from the terminal and gestured, inviting the Architect to walk with him. Emet-Selch fell into step as they made their way down the hall to another terminal. A brief hand wave and then an input command had it running a diagnostic check. 

"I have to work under the assumption that they can read my blueprints. Theirs is a two-fold strike, should we foil one plan they intend to follow through with the other. Which will destroy everything."

"While I agree that such has a remarkably good chance of being their plan, I may have an alternate spin on such. It is possible they intend to do so with Zodiark and only Zodiark, as opposed to the star. A smaller target, easier to manage and move."

"But that doesn't make _sense_. Such would damage the primal, and the souls therein." The Architect frowned, folding his arms as Elidibus slotted the datastick into the terminal and started replacing the corrupted and damaged files. "This runs counter to everything we have _ever_ worked for under His control. His awakening and repair, coupled with the recovery of those who gave their lives for His creation."

"Yes, until you think of it in broader terms. Hydaelyn would not be able to fight Him, in Her current state. She is far too weak. Even sundered as He is, He could devour Her. That would remove what He would see as His greatest threat. From there, He could work towards domination, rebuild His following and take His time." The Emissary shook his head slightly, eyes fixed on the screen. "A strike of great enough power would awaken Him. It would be a trade off He would be willing to make."

"I highly doubt-"

"Because it is a trade off _I_ would be willing to make, Emet-Selch. Myself, you, and the other Convocation members. All of us would endure the loss of a fraction of our life in exchange for freedom. I know this because it was the cost we all paid to bring Him into existence. You and I both have willingly stood still and sacrificed a small portion of ourselves to retain our freedom, and it was from us that Zodiark was born." Elidibus didn't tense, he didn't stop working, simply counting the seconds it took for the Architect to start connecting the dots.

"You... You _knew_." Eyes narrowed, Emet-Selch stared at the Emissary. The shadowed aether before him remained poised, calm, inscrutable even as the Architect's own flared outwards in mounting anger.

"I suspected." Came the tired admittance. "I have, as of yet, been unable to go about dismantling all the plans I had laid considering not only am I still healing but you set Emmerololth to watch me. For all that you play at trusting me, you know how dark my aether is and how difficult it would be to discern Zodiark's tempering from it. I was forced to do what I could, working through Mistress Tataru. Such was slower, however she has to date proved exceptional at undoing my work with the right hints and subtle direction. This... Was not one of the plans that mortal means could undo easily, unfortunately."

"How did you get into my_ Vault_." The words were grit out from between clenched teeth, Emet-Selch's aether roiling in agitation that he worked to get a chokehold on. Across Azys Lla, the Warrior was stirring, brows furrowed, and she only settled once more when he got himself properly under control.

"I didn't. That as of yet, remains a mystery to me. Such was not my work. I lack the ability to walk through walls, such as you do. I will admit, however, that I did hint at the location. I was tempered. You were the enemy, worse you were being controlled by the enemy. I would have been a fool to neglect preparing a few options in the event that I was Ended by Eschaton." 

"And you didn't _think_ to raise the matter with _either_ of us." 

"There are a handful of ways the Tempered could have moved. For all that they are sundered, the Warrior is proof that the latest calamity bumped most of them over that threshold where they could be considered simple, considered as animal intellect. You you realize now, why I have been so willing to endure what pain I must, striving to do what I can to work towards making things right? Eschaton will not hurt me. You are sorely tempted, but refrain knowing that I am useless to our cause if I am injured further and require even longer to recover."

"There are ways to cause pain without causing _damage_." Folding his arms, the Architect let the ominous words hang until Elidibus turned towards him and smiled faintly. 

"She may not love me the way she loves you, but do you truly think that you could get away with such? I was her _friend_, when she felt herself a monster. I watched over her catatonic form as her Echo slowly worked to revive her, and studied the way her immortality worked before she grasped the true nature of it. While you sent the orders to raze lands, conquer those she fought to protect, I learned this reincarnation's favourite songs, meals and habits. She is truly, wholly yours, for all that I tried to woo her-" His faint smile grew slightly, amused as Emet-Selch snapped his hands up and snarled silently, straining against the Secret of Elidibus that prevented Elidibus from being outright attacked. His cadence continued, calm and unperturbed by the gloves that twitched and curled inches away from his throat."You are free to hate me. I had to try. She is... Quite extraordinary, and turned my affections aside after the shortest of encounters. I was a brief respite from loneliness, to her, but when she needed someone, it was not you that was there for her. It was me. Do you truly think she would allow you to hurt me, should I be unable to protect myself?"

The Architect's vessel turned and stalked into the rift he tore open, gloves creaking as he clenched his hands into fists. 

* * *

"How many."

The words pulled the Warrior from her light slumber, out of unfocused, chaotic dreams of violence and something that her mind vaguely registered as a 'shopping mall' though the term didn't mean anything to her on waking. 

"... Whu...?" 

"_HOW MANY HAVE THERE BEEN!?" _He was shouting, basically in her face as she blinked blearily and reached up to tuck a hand against his face, shoving to try and get some space. He didn't budge an inch, swatting her hand away with ease and that woke her up faster than anything else. It meant he was _serious_. 

"How many've what? You're not making sense-"

"Did you _sleep_ with him? Did you _enjoy_ him?" Hands settled on her shoulders, hauling her up and giving her a ragged shake before she was able to brace herself and stare at the snarling visage mere inches from her own as he hissed out words. 

"First off, Asshat, I've not slept with anyone but _you_ since we became a thing again, so if you don't stop shaking me I'ma kick you in the _balls_. I know it's just a vessel but you'll still _feel_ it." The grip on her shoulders tightened, before relaxing slowly and she took the opportunity to collect both of his hands with her own as he slumped, breathing hard. "Secondly, sleep with _who?_ I didn't exactly have standards beyond 'be okay with it being probably a one-time thing', 'kindness' and 'availability' before, alright?" 

"... Elidibus."

"What? N-" She blinked, pausing as she remembered that he had been the elezen paired with her by the Scions before they were the Scions. "... Ah... Okay, I see now. I didn't know he was an Ascian? I dunno, it was a long time ago." 

"You don't _know_." The words were laced with borderline hysteria as he pulled his hands from her grasp and covered his face with them.

"Look, if you want the details I sat on his face and he jerked himself off. That's it. And it was before you and I were a thing, so you don't get to be _mad_ about that. I'm not tearing you a new asshole for sleeping with countless Garlean women, men and who knows who or what else over the eons. I can't _do_ anything about them, and there's no point being a bag've dicks to _you_ just because you whiled away loneliness with other people when I wasn't available. I thought we played with this topic before, you seemed fine, what happened?" She squinted at him, reaching to try and pull his hands away from his face. Reluctantly, he let her even as he grit his teeth. 

"... He showed the tempered where my Vault was."

"Okay, so you were talking to him. I'm guessing you got angry over your things? Did he let them in?" She squeezed his hands gently, ducking down to try and catch the Architect's eyes. He simply shook his head and looked away, hands tugging slightly as if to half-heartedly pull free of her grasp. She tightened her grip, not letting him do so. "Okay, so he led them there but didn't let them in. That's part of the puzzle, and we already thought he might've done that. Sure, there's a difference between knowing it and thinking it, but-"

"The tempered Ascians are going to prematurely awaken Zodiark, so that He might destroy Hydaelyn. It was one of the _Emissary's_ plan." The words were grit out as he continued to look away, and she ahh'd softly. 

"Alright, okay, another piece've the puzzle. You definitely got angry then. How'd you go from point 'ey to point see, though?"

"I may or may not have threatened him." Emet-Selch sniffed haughtily. "He claimed that your _relations_ with him would not allow me to do so and remain in your good graces." 

"Right. I'd've slapped him at that point. Did you?"

"... I could not. 'Tis... Difficult, to bring violence to the Emissary without meeting specific criteria." 

"Okay. Well, resolution time then. Bring me to him, and then we'll come back here, alright?"

"Why, what are you going to do?" Pale gold finally met steel-wrapped blue, and she there was nothing happy about the smile she gave him. 

* * *

"Hey Elidibus. Got a moment?"

The Emissary braced, and turned way from the terminal as he folded his hands politely in front of him. Eschaton and Emet-Selch stepped the rest of the way out from the void, though the Architect maintained it for the time being. That told him that they didn't intend to stay long. A check of their aether confirmed that Emet-Selch was still seething, though the worst of it was tempered with restraint, and the Warrior...

Cold, hard crystal met his scrutiny. She gave him nothing. She gave him _less_ than nothing. It was at odds with the loose t-shirt and pants she had thrown on when coupled with the way her hair stuck up at odd angles, bedhead at it's best.

"Just a quick point of order. I was _sleeping_. You of all people should know how grumpy I get when I wake up. Care to explain why my husband from eons past felt the need to wake me up over something that was, in fact, nothing?"

"No, Eschaton. You are an incredibly intelligent woman. I trust Emet-Selch spoke truthfully, when he spoke with you." His voice was the perfect pitch and tone, just subdued enough to appear properly chastised without making it unbelievable. 

"Right. You're missing the point. But y'know? Maybe I am too. You're a wordsmith. When it comes to danger, words are the first thing you turn to. If you can't escape, better to drive the attacker off, isn't it. Besides, you do have a point. I'm not gunna let him whack you, even if you couldn't stop him or defend yourself, not when we need all hands on deck. Not when we're going to need everyone as healthy, hale, whole and hearty as we can get them." She stretched idly, back popping before she stepped right up to him and peered at his mask. "I'm not gunna do anything to you either, y'know. Not like that. Pain doesn't teach ancient beings of eld, after all. But y'know what? I can _prove a point_."

A throwing dagger was drawn from up the back of her shirt, and she very deliberately lifted it towards his face. Elidibus could feel the way his Secret strained against it, despite doing absolutely nothing to slow the movement, and he watched in rapt fascination as she _cut_ through the resistance. The blade snicked upwards, taking some of his hair with it, before pulling back. 

"If you ever _do_ piss me off to the point where I decide we don't need you, you best run and make sure you never stop. The two ways to make sure I decide we don't need you, is to _get me woken up when i'm short on sleep_ and to _piss off the man I use as a pillow_. Now, I'm _going back to sleep_ and the only reason anyone should wake me up should be if the world's about to end in the next fifteen or so minutes or if it's Emet-Selch lookin' for nookie. And he knows well enough to bring a _bribe,_ even then." She turned and ambled back to the Architect, and leaned against him. "I'ma _sunder_ the next asshole that decides to rouse me otherwise."

They stepped through, and the rift closed behind them to leave Elidibus collecting the severed strands of black hair so that he could stare at them, re-evaluating his odds. 

* * *

"No more emotional ups and downs?" 

"No more, little Monster." 

"You _sure?_"

"I swear it on my true name. If anyone attempts to wake you, I will deal with them myself." 

"... M'kay. G'night, Hades."

"Sleep well, my dear."

She smiled in the darkness, and curled a little more tightly against his side before drifting off, lulled by the steady double-thump of his heartbeat.


	74. Meeting of the Minds (300 Kudos)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 kudos chapter (A non-work related meeting of the Convocation) and my favourite moment to expand upon so far:  
Lahabrea, armed with Cheese

Elidibus stepped into the bar, and was surprised to see that it was at once both empty and full. Empty, in that none of the regulars were there, full in that it was festooned with brightly coloured balloons and streamers and all of the other members of the Convocation. As one, they turned and raised their various drinks and called out a cacophony of greetings. A hand clamped down on each of his shoulders, and the familiar presences of Eschaton propelled him through the room to the table the others were gathered around as he rapidly sorted through his mental calendar and came up lacking. 

"Well now, a... Pleasant, surprise. What might be the occasion?" 

"No occasion!" Came the voice behind him, and their oft-absent fourteenth member circled around him to collect a can of dark beer and thrust it into his hands. "Rules are simple. No talking about work. What happens in this bar tonight _stays_ in this bar. We're going to have a _good time_ and everyone's going to _enjoy_ it." 

"Or else?" The Emissary cracked a slight smile, and Lahabrea snorted. 

"Don't worry, you're not the only one she threatened. Poor Mitron looked fit to _cry_ when he passed through the doors."

"I did not!" 

Emmerololth stifled a snicker, passing a piece of cake to Elidibus, and he looked down at both of them and then took stock of what was on the table. "He looked better than _you_ when you got here, Speaker. You seemed to be a mix of nauseous and lost." 

"I did _not_!" Lahabrea scowled at her, and Eschaton clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. 

"Enough! I call this impromptu meeting into something resembling a session! Emet-Selch, if you would!" She smiled over at the Architect as he waved a hand and pulled a whiteboard into being. She bound over and produced a marker, and started to jot down everyone's names. "Poll time! What types of music do you enjoy? One at a time, in order of youngest to oldest. Mitron! That means we start with you."

"I... I do not think that is _appropriate_ for me to say-"

"Come on, Mitey!" She turned the full force of her hopeful, easy smile on him, and the Traveler floundered. 

"... Jumpstyle?" He tentatively offered, and she perked up. 

"Ohh, some of that is actually really melodic, and some of the plucked portions come out incredible. I guess I'm next." She jotted down jumpstyle under Mitron's name, and then stared at the space under her own. "I'm going to say... Hmm..."

"I highly doubt that there is a single word in any language that might be able to hold a fraction of the meaning required to fully describe your taste in music." Emet-Selch drawled as he made his way over, plucking the marker from her grasp and starting to jot down his own preference under his name. 

"I know! It's all so good, and certain music hits better during certain moods. Natural electronic symphonic orchestral rock?" 

"Alternative orchestral." Marking it down on the board under her name, the Architect looked back at the group, seeking out Pashtarot as Eschaton coughed to cover what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "And you?"

"Classic country." 

"Fandaniel?" The Botanist turned towards the Convocation member she was asking as Emet-Selch took over writing duties, wiping away some of her messier scrawl to neatly replace it with his own neater script. 

"Rock, hard rock, any derivative therein." 

"Halmarut? Nabriales, you're on deck." 

"Orchestral."

"... I'm with Mitron, though I tend towards shuffle, not jump." Nabriales shot the Traveler a smile, and the youngest of them perked up. He offered him a shrug. "It gets in your veins." 

"I suppose I'm next." Igeyorhm smiled faintly, before looking down at her drink. "Blues."

"Hard rock." Supplied Deudalaphon, sharing a grin with Fandaniel. 

"Emmerololth, Lahabrea?"

"I don't tend to have much of a preference, honestly, but if I had to narrow it down recently I've been listening to a fair bit of folk music." The Water Bearer looked thoughtful, before looking to Lahabrea, who shrugged. 

"Electro, usually, tipping into trance." 

Eschaton gave them both a thumbs up before looking at Elidibus and Lohgrif. "Well?"

"Hmm." Buying time, the Emissary set down his cake and cracked open the can in his hand, taking a sip. "... General classical, I would have to say."

"A safe answer." Lohgrif jostled his shoulder, drawing an amused glance before offering the Botanist a grin. "A particularly obscure type of trance called the 'Haka' and general singing."

"War dance?" Quirking a brow, Emet-Selch turned to survey the eldest in the room. "As a people, we haven't been at war for generations." 

"They get the blood flowing, and it helps pump people up for certain sports." Eschaton beamed, nudging the Architect as Lohgrif pointed at her and grinned. "Okay! Lovely, if you could produce_ the machine_-"

"It sounds so _sinister_ when you say it that way." Tutting, Emet-Selch, turned and gestured towards the corner where a jukebox materialized. She winked at him before making her way over and starting to fiddle with it as the Architect produced a handful of straws and evened them out. Making his way back to the cluster of Convocation members, each of them started to draw lots until Lahabrea drew the short one. 

"Wonderful. What does this mean, then?" 

"Means we start with electronic music!" Eschaton finished her prep work and a synthesized tune started to roll out through the room before she turned to the others. "So! Who's up for_ singing_?"

* * *

It became something of a ritual. Once a year, most, if not all of the convocation members would gather together and have a single evening where they made no mention of work, got just a little bit drunk, and played a variety of games. Elidibus admitted that it was wonderful for team-building skills, but privately was waiting for the moment that something went horribly, utterly _wrong_. 

Eschaton more often than not missed these meetings, considering how often her work took her out of the city, but after a decade had shifted enough of her schedule that she could maybe, possibly in the future, hit a fifty-fifty attendance ratio. She had a way of livening up the party that was irreplaceable, though they claimed to do just fine on their own. It was one such time that she arrived late that she realized just how wrong they were. 

The door to the room they apropriated opened just enough to let her in, and she studied the atmosphere even as she slipped in and closed it behind her. 

Elidibus was mediating between Emmerololth and Lahabrea regarding who would get the microphone next, Emet-Selch was sitting in a corner and slowly perking up as he noticed her first and Mitron was crying softly in another corner as Lohgrif crouched in front of him and tried to console him. 

"I-It's not _fair!_ I'm going to b-be _alone_ for... For _centuries_!" 

"Come now, Lad, don't be like that..."

She gestured to them and the Architect gave her a pained _look_ before gesturing between the two of them. Eschaton ahh'd softly catching his meaning right away, and moved to pop over Lohgrif's shoulder. 

"Yeah! You're not alone, you have all of us." The eldest of them startled, toppling forward and catching himself with a hand as she beamed around him at the equally-startled Traveler that was squished into the corner. The polite argument by the karaoke machine quieted, before Lahabrea grit his teeth and muttered something about how she kept coming out of _nowhere_. "Besides. Term is six hundred years. Nothing says that you have to run for the position next time, take a term off and then run for it again. Then, you can decide which you miss more."

Teal eyes watered as Mitron looked up at her, before he scrambled out of the corner and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "Esh-Esh-Eshatooon...!"

"There there, Mitey, there there..." She ignored the way he reeked of booze, wrapping his arms around her and swaying from side to side. "How about we get you settled onto a couch, and I'll go up and steal the mic to sing you something happy. How does that sound, Traveler?" 

Mitron sniffled, nodding, and she moved to lead him over to the couch next to where Emet-Selch sat, perching the youngest of them on it and then blinking as the microphone materialized in her line of sight. Eschaton glanced at it, and then followed the arm back to Lahabrea before grinning and nodding in thanks. 

"Don't make me regret this." 

"Would _I_ do that?" The botanist accepted the microphone and straightened so that she could start scrolling through songs. Finding one, she grinned and hit play. 

Whistling filled the air, a peppy little tune that had Emet-Selch rolling his eyes as the others settled around the table. Eschaton rocked her weight onto her toes and hopped to the beat. She lifted the mic to her mouth and started to sing, just... Horribly. Loosely in tune, voice a croon that was trying ever so hard to emulate the tone and pitch of what should have been there and missing by a _mile. _

_"Ohhh~ Cray-zy's what they think about me~! Ain't gonna stop 'cause they tellll me sooo! 'Cause ninety-nine miles per hour bay-bay, is how fast that I like ta go~!"_

Emet-Selch worked to keep his expression neutral, knowing that she wasn't usually this_ bad_ and was actively hamming it up before a subtle gesture produced earplugs for himself and with everyone staring at Eschaton he took the opportunity to tuck them into place. Elidibus kept his expression politely attentive, though one of his eyes was twitching. Mitron _smiled_, hiccoughed, and then giggled, which just prompted the Botanist to sing even _worse_. 

_"Can't keep UP-"_ She pointed upwards at the ceiling with her free hand, still bouncing in place. _"-with my rhythm, though they keep tryin', took quick for the lines they throw."_ A hand swept out, pantomiming throwing things as she stopped bouncing and turned, starting to moonwalk back and forth before the machine. _"I WALK to the sound of. My Own. Drum. We go, they go we go HEY-AY-AY-AY!"_

Emmerololth stuffed her hands against her ears, looking as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cringe. Nobody was _new_ to the Botanist's inability to sing, but the misery that had suffused the room from Mitron was being overwritten by touched sibling-affection. Lahabrea looked like he had just sucked on a lemon and reached for the plate of cheeses, starting to lob them at the Eschaton as he booed. She alternatively swatted them away, curled so that they bounced off her shoulder and side and otherwise dodged, grinning. 

"OH! Here we GO! Feel it in my SOUL! Really _mean_ it, _mean_ it so GO! Gotta _feel_ it, your _heart_ it takes CONTROL! Really _mean_ it, _mean_ it!" 

Lohgrif was beside himself with laughter, watching as she used the mic to swat a cheese back at the Speaker. It caught him in the mask, and he grinned and immediately fired another one back at her as it fell. She ducked into a crouch, scooping up cheeses and hoarding them to herself as she started to throw them back at him, grinning like a delighted child even as she missed the next couple of words and mumbled them into the microphone. 

"_Mhmpf mmh city of __angels_, to see my na-ack!- nameheadliningthecoast! They say I'm a _walkin' dreamer bay-bay_, if I stopped they would make the show!"

The next cheese caught her in the face, and she dramatically toppled, throwing her arms wide and letting a 'NOOOooo_ooo_....!' trail off as the song continued in the background.

* * *

It was usually either Elidibus or Eschaton that stayed behind to clean up. Emet-Selch would often linger, but she waved him off and asked him to get started on something for her to eat when she got back. This left the Emissary holding a garbage bag as the Botanist scrounged lost cheeses off the floor so that they could be thrown out. 

"Everything... Runs more smoothly, while you are around, Eschaton. I wonder why that is." 

"That _might_ have something to do with how I have twice the crazy and three times the cheer of the average Amaurotine. We Eschaton have always been this way."

"I find the contrast to your demeanor during meetings... Intriguing." The bag was offered as she hauled another cheese out from under one of the couches, and she threw it out even as she pushed herself up. 

"Dad always used to tell me about how much of a bad idea it was to mix business with pleasure. Of course, he was trying to persuade me to stop waiting for the Architect to finally muster up the courage to start chasing me, but that's a story for another day." Moving to the table, she started to gather up wrappers and turned to tuck them into the garbage as well, pausing when Elidibus reached out to grasp her by the wrist.

"Did you know, that you are the first female-identifying Eschaton?"

She narrowed her eyes, before quirking a brow. "Somebody seems to have taken the opportunity to brush up on their history." 

"Those who hold your title have always held a magnetism, Botanist, that was almost animalistic in nature. A natural 'alpha'. Where you walk, others follow. They cannot help themselves. This theory is supported by countless incidents in history and by the very fact that you are the final say in a dispute, should you be present to speak such. Part of why the Eschaton leaves the city for great periods of time, is because they must. Because your very presence bends others to your will, consciously or subconsciously, and to ensure that we all retain our own opinions you distance yourself and enter the equivalent of seclusion. One year per decade, to ensure the Secret of the Eschaton fades." Elidibus spoke quietly, carefully, and felt the corners of his mouth tug downwards as she went very, very still. Her aether was systematically compacting into a dense, hard structure that gave away little and only confirming his theories. "This is why those who cross your path become protective of you. Why they listen to you, when they have no reason to, isn't it."

"Clever little cockatiel. I'm not the only one with a hypnotic presence though, _Snake_." Her voice was mild, and she easily pulled her wrist free of his grasp. Turning, she resumed tidying up, an idle way to occupy her hands as she gathered bottles and glasses so that they were stacked neatly in the center of the table. "You, however, have the ability to control when and where it kicks in. Yours is noticeable, however, whereas mine... Well, I think you might be the first person to ever say they noticed to my face."

"A female-identifying Elidibus is not as dangerous as a female-identifying Eschaton. We are above the animalistic tendencies of the beastkin, yet your very presence draws us all towards impure thoughts. Is that how you managed to capture the affections of Emet-Sel-" He found his back against the wall, both of her fists in his robes as the shorter Concovation member bodily lifted him from the ground and slammed him back. Eyes widening, Elidibus tried to figure out why she had been able to lay her hands upon him, staring down into those cold blue eyes that held his own. 

"Us Eschaton are well known for for our _temperamental_ natures, considering we work so closely with animals and plants and despite the way we portray ourselves as harmless goofs. Everything _Ends_, after all, and that makes them all fall under our domain even if only just. I _advise_ you to reconsider your line of thought, before you get yourself in _trouble_."

"H-how...?" The garbage bag was dropped, and he lifted both hands to pull at her wrists, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he realized just how much _stronger_ than him she was. 

"How am I able to reach through that Secret of yours that's supposed to keep you _safe?_ Oh yes, I know of it. I can feel it. You're an Emissary. Let me give you a hint. The real title of Eschaton doesn't mean 'Botanist'. It means _Hunter_. But, generations ago, after we lost the need to _fight_ we _changed_ that and the entire Convocation simply... Forgot. The populace, over a span of ten thousand years, accepted the _lie_ that was attached to 'Eschaton', because the Eschaton _wanted_ them to. Because we _are_ the 'Alpha'. Because at the end of the day, if there's conflict within our _pack_, it is ours to _End_ it." She pressed him a little harder against the wall, before smiling and abruptly letting go, letting him catch himself on his feet and stare at her. "... Emet-Selch liked me before I even became Eschaton. That's how I know, that's what I tell myself whenever I think maybe I have spent a little too long around him and start thinking maybe he didn't actually choose _me_. And you would do well to avoid ever saying anything about this to him, or to _anyone_."

"Are... You -threatening- me." Elidibus adjusted his robes, rattled with the way her presence filled the room with an almost predatory air that matched the toothy smile she flashed him. 

"In a word? _Yes_. Now, I'm going to take these bottles out to the counter and go home. I'm _sure_ you can handle the rest of the garbage yourself. Nod your head." 

He found himself nodding before he even realized it, and grit his teeth as he forced a smile across his features. She reached out and patted him on the shoulder, before turning and gathering up the bottles and glasses, heading to the door. 

"And Elidibus?'

"Yes, Eschaton?"

"I really _do_ think you're a smart, capable person. I _like_ you, as a friend. As a co-worker. As a fellow mediator. The stick to your carrot. I don't _want_ to have to do anything. But if you tell people, they'll turn on me, and I won't hesitate to defend myself. I _hope_ you'll make the smart choice, of your own free will."

And then she was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... SO sorry for what Eschaton does to the song. But Mitron's alt title is 'The Traveler' because ffxii Chaos's thing is 'the Walker of the Wheel' and I couldn't -not-.  
Also I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that I would have reached 300 kudos! Thank you, everyone, for reading commenting kudosing and bookmarking!  
I couldn't have gotten this far without your continued support, and look forward to writing what I can for you in the future!


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention how much I appreciate the comments everyone leaves?  
Because holy hell, do I ever : D  
I love each and every one of you and (even though I'm worried about padding out my comment number still; it just feels wrong and like I'm trying to brag or something) though I might not respond to every comment, I read each and every one multiple times, mark down the things that people seem to want in my 'extras' chapter to give myself prompts when I'm searching for something to drabble about, and generally just vibrate in place with glee that -anone- seems to enjoy my work.  
< 3  
Onwards and upwards!

She woke up slowly, surrounded by warmth and _basked_ in itfor several long moments. There was a heartbeat under her fingertips that was steady and slow, everything smelled like a mix of petrichor and something resembling some nameless _spice_ that was dark and heady. She was comfortable, the bed was soft and the pillow was too. The sheets were smooth and the weight of the fuzzy blankets she always burrowed into was _wonderful_ where they laid atop her back and legs, a quilt and sheet away. 

Twelve, but she didn't want to _move_. But her stomach was starting to think her throat had been slit. Still, as she cracked open her eyes she noted how close _his_ neck was to her, just a little bit of a stretch away from where her head was pillowed on his shoulder. His earring hung down, and she wondered at the meaning behind it, at why he only wore the one. It didn't look like any linkpearl _she_ had ever seen. 

She gave into temptation, and idly shifted just enough to press kisses against the crook of his neck. A quiet, sub-vocal hum and upward quirk of his lips as he roused from his own slumber had her sighing contently, repeating the sound as his hand found hers atop his chest. 

"Good morning, little Monster." 

"What time's it?"

"Hmm. Closer to second morning bell than first. You slept for quite some time." 

"I wondered. Anything explode?" Stretching idly, she burrowed against his side and closed her eyes, content to simply listen to him speak regardless of the news. 

"Hm. Only in part. Two Ascians are missing in action. Elidibus, Lahabrea and Igeyorhm have managed to get most of Azys Lla functional, with the assistance of the drones I returned here. No sign of an impending strike against the Star nor Zodiark's prison."

"Shit. Who's poofed?" 

"Halmarut and Pashtarot. The two you sent to study the Shards for void interference or tempered plots. A cursory study revealed no sign of either, nor of anything _particularly_ unusual although I will admit I didn't quite have time to do more than _skim_. I was attempting to cover a great deal of ground particularly swiftly." Emet-Selch idly stretched, letting out bone-cracking yawn before settling once more. 

"Right. We're going to need Gaius and Urianger."

"Hmm?"

The Warrior propped herself up, slowly pushing the covers off of herself as she did. Hades blinked at her, reaching up to scrub a hand across his face and then rake his hair back out of his eyes as she explained. "Urianger's my go-to choice of healer and probably one of the best to take when it comes to visiting other Shards, and Van Baelsar... Well, Gaius is a Garlean. They tend towards particularly strong, resilient, durable and don't depend on magic."

"Garlean gunblades rely upon ceruleum, which only exists upon the Source, however there _are_ admittedly alternatives out there. You... Intend to go and find them." 

"Psh, _yeah_. What, you thought I'd leave them behind?" 

_("You thought I would leave them behind?"_ _ Eschaton smiled at him, and then looked back to the butterflies that trailed in her wake. Any time she stopped, they covered her, practically obscuring the Botanist as she spread her arms to give them more surface area to perch on. "Every life's precious. I don't just throw anyone or anything away, not if I can help it.")_

"Nobody's expendable. Not even those who count as 'immortal'. Not me, not you, not any of the Ascians that fight for the survival of everything. Not the Scions, not the guards, merchants, nobody. Not a single one." She was grinning at him, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes and heave a dramatic sigh. 

"Oh _fine_. But the moment Van Baelsar attempts to woo you, I reserve the right to teleport him over a _lake_." 

She laughed, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. 

* * *

"Hey! Urianger!" She skipped through the doors to his room, fully garbed and kit for the long haul with Emet-Selch trailing along behind her. The elezen glanced up from where Lahabrea was patiently teaching him about some of the things he had overlooked regarding Sharlayan astrology. "I'm kidnapping you."

"Thou means to say I have no choice, then?" 

"I mean, you _could_ sit around here learning stuff you can always go back and study or ask the Speaker about another time, _or_. Or. Stay with me. You could come with me to other Shards that _aren't_ the First and help me try and find our missing Ascian allies, Pashtarot and Halmarut." She shrugged, and stared at him as if waiting for his answer. He didn't hesitate, snapping the book shut and turning to start packing his bag with everything he had brought to Azys Lla. "Yeah, that's about what I thought you'd do. See why I said kidnap? Sorry, Lahabrea, but I'm gunna need his fortune-telling and healing abilities. And all that aether stuff that goes over my head." 

_[Well, if nothing else there -are- worse choices. I take it I'm to help hold down the fort, so to speak?]_ The dragon hatchling flared his wings and rasped out a hiss, tail swishing through the air behind him. 

"I'd appreciate it. Fewer unnecessary deaths, the better. I'll do what I can to keep in touch, but don't expect anything for a week. Elidibus already told you everything?" 

_[He did. I took the liberty of sending Igeyorhm to spread the information to Emmerololth and then send the Water Bearer to the First to inform the Ascians there.]_

"Thanks! Oh, and see what you can do to make this place a bitch to teleport to, beyond a few designated, defendable points will you? Should help keep Elidibus and anyone else we shelter here safe ish." The Warrior beamed, and then turned to glance at where the astrologian had finished packing and was tucking his star globe against his back. "Ready?"

"To journey the stars? Never. And yet, 'tis plain that I must needs make the attempt regardless." For all that he was trying to remain solemn, there was excitement hidden in the way his lips quirked against his will. 

"Good. Emet-Selch?" 

"Yes yes, the Rising stones to collect our fourth. I _will_ bring my armor, in the event that he dies."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

Every day, someone had come by to heal the Garlean gunbreaker just that much more. His stitches had already come out, he was eating proper foods, and any residual soreness he was told would fade in the next few days. In the meantime, he exercised to ensure he was in peak condition and considered his options. 

With Zenos currently in power and (working with? for?) influenced by the Warrior of Light, this meant that Garlemald was no longer producing Black Rose. The civil unrest and upheaval had been effectively halted, for now, the people falling into line behind a strong ruler that had actually started to give half a damn. He could always return, continue working from the shadows to do what he could, but the new Emperor had only guaranteed his freedom, not granted him pardon.

It was during his musings that he caught the faintest whisper of the familiar sound of a rift opening, and turned to narrow suspicious eyes at the patch of darkness until the Warrior, the elezen (Urianger, he recalled the name was) and Emet-Selch ambled out. She beamed at him, bounding over and gesturing to him even as the Ascian turned and vanished back into the rift. 

"Van Baelsar! Up and at'em! Good. Wanna help me hunt some Ascians? Two on our side for a presumed rescue mission, and a whole whack that aren't?" She beamed at him, and the Garlean frowned even as he relaxed his stance. 

"Curious, that you should ask this of me. I must needs return to Garlemald. Zenos seems to be following a better path, however such is no guarantee."

"Yeah, the strenght he's got's not exactly the same kind've strength needed to run an empire, but he's trying. Well shit. If you're out, then we're going to need someone else. Can't be Zenos, he's busy. Estinien and Aymeric are paired, and working in Ishgard. Lyse is readying Ala Mhigo. Hien's in Doma. Maaan, everyone I'd invite to the party's already got a dance partner in the way of duties. I'd say maybe Thancred, but he's got Ryne on the First..." The Warrior frowned, before shrugging and looking back at Emet-Selch as the Ascian stepped out of another void. "Hey! Good news and good news time!"

"Why does that sound as though you are about to attempt to spin _bad_ news as _good_ news and, should I comment about it, tell me that I am simply not looking at it from the correct angle." The Architect sized her up as the Warrior clasped her hands behind her back and smiled sheepishly. 

"I mean, _good_ news is that it's not a waste that you went and got your armor? Other good news is we're good to go now! Gaius is going back to Garlemald and I can't think of anyone else that might be sturdy enough physically and otherwise to withstand a bunch've Ascians. But I've got a _plan_ for the fourth. Just gotta get to whatever Shard you take us to."

"_Wonderful_. You do realize that bringing one person across the expanse between the shards is difficult enough, and that two will severely limit anything I can do aetherically until I manage to properly _rest_, correct? Such dips a little too deeply into what I would prefer to reserve for the inevitable accidents that await us." 

"Hey! Good news! It's just me and Uri you're bringing. Easier than three people?" She beamed at him, and he huffed a soft, amused sound and folded his arms. 

"That means no teleportation back and forth between locations, little Monster. Not until I have recovered."

"I should get my Yol then!" 

Her smile grew, and he rolled his eyes before offering a hand to both the elezen and the midlander, ripples already forming about them. "_No_. I am _not_ dragging that _thing_ across the expanse."

"Aww..." They both clasped his hands, before she turned and waved the other towards Gaius. "Good luck! Tell Zenos I said h-!"

And then they were gone, swallowed by the darkness and leaving the Garlean gunbreaker standing an empty courtyard with a look of bafflement across his face. 

* * *

"Welcome to the Eighth Shard." Emet-Selch let go of Urianger's hand so that he could pull the Warrior closer and face her away from him, draping himself over her shoulders and heaving a sigh. "Halmarut was to oversee the Ardor between it and the Source, which I _thought_ he was intending to do with the magocracies he was playing with, but another completed their work before he did and as such he was forced to alter his plans. The Shard is still largely primed towards Aether, so I should recover quickly during our stay." 

"So you think if Halmarut was injured and hiding anywhere, it would be here?" She peered around, glancing towards Urianger as the elezen dug instruments out of his pack and immediately started taking measurements. The trees were pale and lit with a luminescence that was edged with pastel hues that varied from tree to tree. All was quiet, save for the calls of night-birds and the songs of insects. 

"I do. Carry me?"

"Are you wearing pants?" A quiet grunt and then a snap had the full weight of an armor-laden Garlean taller than her by nearly a fulm against her back, and she crouched enough that she could get her hands under his rump and give him a piggy pack. His arms came around her shoulders and the Architect buried his face in her scarf, closing his eyes for the time being. "There we go. Urianger?" 

"The aetheric readings are incredible." He shot her a small smile before tucking the crystal array away and shouldering his pack. 

"Anything we need to know as we walk?" 

"If you cannot fake that you have magic, you will be pitied and treated as less than dirt." 

"Right. Inverted Garlean-style superiority, then. Which way?'

A gauntleted hand waved idly, and she nodded as they made their way. 

* * *

_Somewhere, in a bed that drifted lazily through the air, an almost skeletal man jerked awake. Heart hammering, he sat up and twisted, rolling off the bed as his long, golden blond hair rippled through the air behind him so that he could drift down through the hole in the center of his tower and touched down on a platform that ringed the inside, tearing open a dresser drawer so that he could start pulling some proper clothes on over his ceremonial wraps. Something was **calling** to him, a distant tickle across his sensibilities, and for a moment he thought he was under attack. Equipped with what he needed, he tucked the crystal that acted as his left eye into place and dropped down another level, drifting to the large mirror of ice that dominated one wall. _

_A brief incantation to activate the abilities of the mirror left him baffled. No attack was incoming. There was no divination magic at work, attempting to pierce the carefully layered and raised shields that hid his secluded home. _

_What, then, was this subtle tug? His magics could not identify it. A long moment spent attempting to discern if it was having any other effects yielded no results. The only way in which it changed was when he orbited the inside of his tower, which gave him a general direction that the tugging seemed to originate from. _

_... Did he **want** to go outside to investigate it? He hadn't left his tower in years. Once the world no longer had need of him, he had quietly slipped away so that he could read his books and ignore social obligations. He had a perfectly good koi pond he could tend to instead. He had journals to transcribe and memories to look back on. He had misery to wade through, about being the only one **left**. He had... _

_He had... _

_He had two swords, impossibly thin things that hung from his elongated, pointed ears in their miniaturized earring forms. He had cloth wrapped about his forearms, feet, hands and shins. He had a segmented skirt that billowed dramatically and scandalously revealed the wraps about his thighs, hips and waist that otherwise kept any genitalia well obscured. He had a sleeveless crop-top that obscured the wraps across his upper chest and revealed the ones about his neck. _

_But, most importantly, he had the worst case of **boredom** he had ever known, and as much as he liked to think that he was doing a good job of staving it off, there was only so many times one could feed a pair of fish and reorganize books before a little bit of fresh air was needed. _ _He stepped off the ledge, drifting up and touching down by the balcony doors. They opened without a touch, and as he stepped through they closed behind him to let him survey the starred night sky. _

_With barely a thought, the emaciated, withered man lifted into the air and soared off in search of answers._


	76. Eighth pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I made an entire little chart to figure out which shards were still up and which ones -weren't-. Also, a commenter mentioned potentially hashing out ideas and theories in a discord and I've been sort of thinking about it but I'm -shy- and nervous and smol and wouldyouguysevenuseit???  
In other news, I'm -totally- making up what the eighth is like. Watch squeenix have that be the next place we go and me be horribly -wrong- Q.Q

They decided to set up camp at the base of one of the glowing trees, tucked against a cliffside with Urianger and the Warrior agreeing to split the watch between them. She offered to go first, until Urianger pointed out that he had a series of aetheric tests that he wanted to run. She took his polite point at face value, ignoring his hidden excitement, grinning and stretching out to use the unconscious Ascian's chest as a pillow. 

She drifted, dozing peacefully, until something caught the edge of her attention. The faintest bit of movement that wasn't the elezen, though the astrologian paused as a feeling of _listening_ swept across the clearing. Deftly, he drew his star globe and set it to spin idly above one hand even as he continued, humming as if to himself. An agreement, a habit, meant to alert her should he suddenly be silenced. 

There. Twenty five fulms distant from her. When she snuck a glance, however, there was nothing visible. She decided to try diplomacy first, and sat up to stare off in the direction she was getting slight tickles from. 

"Hey, I know you're there, alright? Why don't you come out and talk like a normal person. I promise we don't bite."

No response for a long moment, before the air gained a colourless ripple to reveal an elezen roughly the height of the twins floating in mid-air with his arms folded. 

Gaunt, the angles of his face harsh and the skin pulled tight, greatly emphasizing one hard blue eye with slivers of grey in an odd pattern about the edge of the iris and one made of a glowing blue crystal. Long fingers, appearing to have been partially wrapped as if caught mid-way through a mummification process, both of his hands and feet were possessed of pointed nails. Long blond hair, tied up in a high tail, fanned out behind him and rippled slowly as his mouth formed a thin, hard line across his face. A blue crop-top and some sort of segmented skirt were all he wore otherwise, and there was wariness stamped across his posture as he _stared_ at her. 

"'Eyy, a local." Pushing herself to her feet, the Warrior brushed herself off and beamed at their uninvited guest. "What brings you out here to the middle of I'm betting bum-rush nowhe-"

"_Who. Are. You._" The voice was utterly _nasal_, and she blinked before tilting her head. Urianger paced a wide circle around their visitor so that he stood partly behind her. 

"Warrior. Yo-"

"_That_. Is not a name. It is a _Title_. Who. Are. _You._"

"Look, guy or at least I'm assuming guy? You literally wandered into our camp while two've us are sleeping. Either you've got no grasp of not waking people up - which is a mistake, lemme tell you, you're lucky I already slept a whole bunch earlier - or you think you can rob all three've us." 

"Three landwalkers, one of them _mouthy-_"

"Will wonders never _cease_. We arrived barely a handspan of hours ago, and already you have found one of your fragments." The prone Ascian stretched idly, yawning and then starting to push himself up. 

"Fragments? Oh! That 'splains why he felt sort've familiar." The Warrior glanced back and then beamed at the floating elezen. "You _are_ a guy, right? If not, man am I sorry for assuming."

Their 'guest' narrowed his eyes, the air around him rippling as he looked back and forth between Emet-Selch and the rogue. "_Explain_ yourself."

"Hey, Uri, got any tea? This might _take_ a while."

* * *

They got him to fold his legs in mid-air as if he was sitting, adamantly refusing anything they tried to offer. The astrologian set about resuming his scans and readings in the background, jotting down notes and figures in a small green book even as he kept an eye on the trio. Emet-Selch had sprawled out once more, hands folded behind his head while he contently drifted and the Warrior sat on his chest, sipping her tea.

"So! You're about to think I'm crazy. We're from another world. We're here looking for a friend that might've gotten kidnapped or badly injured that we're hoping is around here somewhere. Once we find him, then we're going to and look for our other friend, who also might've gotten kidnapped or badly wounded." She sipped her tea, and their guest stared at her, unblinking, unmoving and scowling. 

"Oh, _this_ should be good." The Architect cracked open his eyes, glancing at the Warrior. "'Tis a terrible idea to _lead_ with that, little Monster. It never works out the way you might hope it would."

"Hey, he deserves the truth, yeah?" She smiled faintly, before shrugging. "What's the worst that can happen, he doesn't believe me and we end up having to fight? Oh nooo... Whatever will I dooo..."

"Do you have _proof_ of this?" Came the waspish counter from their guest, who rested his hands on his boney knees. 

"Only everything we've brought and stories of places that don't exist here." She shrugged, turning her attention back to their visitor who's scowl had eased ever so slightly. He raised one hand, gesturing for her to come closer. 

"I will verify the truth of such with my own methods then. Step forward, Landwalker." 

Shrugging, the Warrior set her tea down and shifted to her feet, ambling over. She stopped when he held up a hand, tilting her head to the side as she watched him start sketching glyphs and runes in the air. His fingers trailed lines of light that then drifted forward, hovering in a ring around her. 

"What is your name?"

"Good question. Next question." The Warrior smiled mirthlessly as she glanced at the runes, poking them idly. "Look, stick to the questions that don't have to do with my name, 'cause that shit's _personal_, alright?"

"Hmm... Very well. Where do you hail from?"

"The Source."

"The source of what?"

"Everything? Not sure how to answer that. There was one world, then there was a big fight and now there's the Source and ten and three Shards. This is the Eighth." She blinked as he stared at her. "What. You _asked_. Next question."

"... Why are you here?"

"In that big fight? There was a hungry primal and a primal designed to stop Him from eating everything. People are trying to wake up the hungry primal, and I sent some people out to keep an eye on the other Shards in the event that they tried something there to do with their plans. Neither of them've reported back for a while, and I'm kind've worried so I set out with these two to go and try and find them."

"What is a primal?" He was frowning now, and she shrugged. 

"Ho boy. Primals are beings made of aether and prayer." The Warrior stretched idly, tucking her hands behind her head as she twisted and leaned from one side to the other. "That's a conversation for another time, really. But they're big, dangerous, and usually pretty greedy. There's a few exceptions to the rule, though." 

"And you will leave once you have found your... Friend?"

"Hmm. I wonder. I've got ideas for what else I might want to do, but I haven't decided yet. I'ma pre-empt what I'm pretty sure will be your next question and say that the hungry primal got broken into fourteen parts, and one of them's inside the moon. I might try and see what we can do about it while we're here. The hungry primal's a bad guy, by the way. Also, primals in general can usually do a thing that enslaves the hearts of the people they hit with enough aether."

"You truly have no intention to start any wars, throw your influence behind any specific faction or upset the tenuous peace?"

"Not on purpose. Things _do_ tend to happen though. And without a guide, who _knows_ what trouble we might get up to." She was grinning at him, and their guest narrowed his eyes at her. 

"It is your intention to rope me into assisting you with this."

"I mean, -yeah-. I'd feel better with a fourth, and the last place I went without a guide I ended up getting into all sorts of shenanigans. Besides, you came to us in the middle of the night. That tells me you don't exactly have a _day job_." Dropping her arms, to her sides, the Warrior shrugged and then turned to the side. Reaching out, she rather deliberately poked one of the glyphs and watched as it popped like a _bubble_, the rest flickering and fading mere seconds later as the entire structure collapsed. She made her way back over to the Ascian, sitting down and recovering her tea so that she could take a sip. 

"How... Anti-magic? No. There was no inverted surge...." Legs unfolding, their guest drifted in mid-air and stared at the Warrior as if she had grown a second head.

"Simply put, I cut through it."

"You... You could have done that at any time."

"Natuarlly. But you wanted answers that you could _believe_ in so that you could give yourself a reason to trust your instincts. What should I call you?" 

"... Kel'louch." He studied her, watching for a reaction and then coughing slightly as she simply blinked blankly at him. "... From another world indeed. Such is a title. It means 'War Mage' from the combined Kelren for Mage and Elouch for War." 

"Nice. Kel-owsh. You can just call me 'Warrior'. Everyone does. Works just as well for a name as anything."

"What... Exactly are you? Physically, I mean to say, and why do you have a youngling with you?" Kel'louch nodded towards Urianger, before looking back at the Warrior and folding his legs to sit in mid-air once more. 

"Youngling?" She snickered, before shaking her head. "I'm a hyur, and Uri's not a kid. He's a grown-ass man."

"Things must truly be different on this... Source, if the crellbron retain their pulse for so long." He was frowning, studying the astrologian and humming.

"Crellbron? Is that what you call elezen?"

"Elezen...?" Kel'louch's frown deepened, and he turned his gaze to the Warrior. "We do not have 'hyur' here. Only crellbron, and younglings. Younglings are like your... Traveling companion. Rare, born out of duty to continue the lineage and cycle of life, while we crellbron defend it. Once a youngling has passed their rite of ascension, they become a crellbron. To travel with one is nigh unheard of."

"... Emet-Selch?" She glanced down and back at the Ascian, who shrugged.

"Don't look at _me_ for a translation. T'was not _my_ Shard to oversee. Halmarut would likely hold the answers you seek."

"Which circles right back to the reason why we're here-"

"_Halmarut?_" Kel'louch unfolded his legs, eyes intent upon the Warrior as the air rippled about him. She tracked the way patches of _ouch_ radiated out and scrambled to her feet. "You seek the one responsible for nigh on every misfortune that has toppled great cities that have stood for centuries-!?"

"Woah! Woah-woah-woah, calm down! First thing first, yeah he was in the service of the hungry primal but I _fixed_ that, and now he's fighting against Him. Which is why I'm so _worried_ because there's others out there like the Weaver that want to try and turn him back or hurt him 'cause they see him as a _traitor_. Best case scenario is that he fled here after getting hurt and is hiding, 'cause he knows the land and has defenses already set up here. That you're familiar with him is useful, it means you might know where to _look_." She was patting the air, as if attempting to defuse the situation and after a moment of contemplation the patches of _pain_ that were dancing across the ground faded. 

"... Why do I _believe_ you." Blue eyes narrowed and held similar blue, and Kel'louch clenched his fists as he stared at her, growling out the words. 

"Probably 'cause I'm not _lying,_ for starters. But if you want to learn more you'd best get comfortable, because this is gunna take a while."

* * *

She went over what they had learned, what they knew and what they had guessed. By the time she was done talking Urianger had gone to bed and Emet-Selch had rolled onto his side, pillowing his head on one arm and looping the other about her waist as if to ensure she didn't disappear as he slept. Kel'louch had folded his arms as he sat in mid-air, eyes narrowed and both his hair and the end of his paneled skirt rippling as if caught in an unseen current. They sat silent for a long moment as he reviewed what she had gone over with him, before at length closing his eyes and sighing. 

"Wake your companions. The sooner you complete what you have come here for, the sooner you will leave and the quicker I can return to my retirement."

"Wait, you're _retired_?" The Warrior blinked at him, staring as he chuckled and nodded. 

"Halmarut disappeared three hundred years ago. After the first century, we dared to hope that he had failed to penetrate the spells I had, at the time, woven to prevent his return. After the second century, such was believed ot be true. However, if what you say is accurate than perhaps he simply had other things to do, as they seemed... Useless, in keeping the Dark-Touched that curls around you like some manner of _cat_. I will have to review my work."

"I think the Architect might be a special case. The black-masked Ascians would be, I dunno, about a three on a scale of one to ten. Halmarut would be a six and he's a nine-ish when it comes to power." She smiled fondly down at Emet-Selch, reaching to idly comb his fingers through his hair, drawing a quiet, content sub-vocal hum from him. "If I could ask a favour, though, d'you think you could go over what you were doing with him to try and keep the Ascians out? That would be... _Incredibly_ useful, for defensing against them, and he might be able to build something similar on the same wide-scale line you've got. He might even be able to improve on your methods."

"I... Hesitate, to review my work with one of those who, by all means, should be an enemy. Regardless of how _tame_ you seem to have made him." A hand was lazily waved towards the Ascian, before Kel'louch settled both on his knees at her snort and chuckle.

"Hah! He's not tame, not by a long shot. But hey, back to retirement, how'd you live so long too? Most folks on the Source live until they're, I dunno, a hundred ish? Maybe a little more?"

"Ahh. The natural lifespan of a youngling." The warmage paused, before steepling his fingers. "'Live' is a very... Generous term, for the state of being a crellbron takes after the rite of ascencion. We create a point to turn our own current inwards, recycling our own strength. While we lose the ability to grow stronger, we gain a type of immortality. So long as our anchor point remains undamaged, we may reform our bodies as often as we may require to do so. We cultivate ourselves as younglings until we have hit our peak, and then undergo the rite so that we may remain at our greatest throughout the ages. There are drawbacks, of course. We lose the ability to enjoy a great many things tied to the physical such as taste and physical touch, however to be able to fight to defend our world is an honour. Such is a sacrifice many of us make, to fight the Dark-Touched."

The Warrior nodded, before picking up a rock and lobbing it at Urianger's tent. "Hey! Uri! Wake up! We're moving out!"

A muffled sound answered her, and she snickered before gently shaking Emet-Selch's shoulder. "Hey, am I carrying you today?" 

"Mh?" The Architect cracked open an eye, watching her sleepily. "Mm. Please. Your fragment's handiwork certainly explains why it took more than I had expected to get here. I have studied what I can of it. Enervation seems to be a common theme, when it comes to the Echo bestowed by Hydaelyn. The less _effort_ I have to put into anything, the quicker I will recover. As this is an aether-rich world, it should not take more than a few days."

"'More than a few days.' More than a day, and you just want to see how long you can get me to lug you around." She chuckled as he tried to give her an innocent look, failed, and settled for curling his arm a bit tighter around her waist. "You don't have to feign tiredness. Just gotta let me know that's what you want. Call me weird but I like the closeness and presence at my back. Like if you're there, then nothing else can stab me there, yeah?"

"Little _Monster_. Don't _tell_ me things like that. 'Tis nigh likely I will take you up on it."

Urianger stepped out of his tent, pulling out the center support and shaking his head as he started breaking it down. "Thou knows such is ill advised in foreign lands. Should we come under attack thy burden would slow thy reactions and lead to injury."

"Aww, I'll be _fiiine_. 'Sides, Kel'louch wouldn't let anything happen to a bunch've travelers! Right?" The Warrior glanced over at the Warmage, who simply quirked a nearly non-existent brow. 

"With a title like 'Warrior' I would believe you could defend yourself and leave you to your own devices."

"Well _shit._"

* * *

"... Do you really _walk_ everywhere?" Kel'louch drifted along backwards, legs partially bent and hands clasped behind his back as he watched the three he was leading through the woods. "It would be far faster to fly to my tower. Perhaps a toll or two, if the weather turned foul."

"I mean, my 'spellcasting' involves cutting things. Urianger -might- be able to make a barrier and ride it, but of the three've us I think only Emet-Selch can do what you're doing. Magic seems to work a bit differently on the Source, though I couldn't go into it with you. What I understand is that there's elementals in everything, and that using magic usually pulls aether from them to fuel it. And they don't -like- that. Otherwise there's red magic that uses some sort've accelerator to make personal aether -real- strong, and blue magic that lets mimic the abilities of monsters. Oh, there's star-magic, like what Urianger uses, and bits and bobs that're part of other people's kits but that's pretty much it for true casters. And nobody's got -flight- like what you seem to, or what the Ascians can do." She ambled along idly, ignoring the sweat beading across her brow and neck that came with the exertions of walking for hours while carrying a fully grown, armored man that was taller than she was.

"I see. Travel must be _terrible_. And you say you fought the Ascians on this... Source?"

"Frequently. Killed a few. Two've them are back, sort of. De-tempered all the powerful ones."

"And the 'small fry' are attempting to launch Dark-touched or the 'Shards' into the moons to awaken the 'hungry primal', Zodiark." Their guide spun about to drift forward for a time, hands still clasped behind his back. "Their teleportation magic was their greatest asset, as it was what we lacked. Once we discerned how to do so, we crellbron began to be able to more effectively fight back. The casting of the Lock was a massive undertaking, and many of us..." 

The Warrior blinked as images flit through her. A congregation of two hundred motes of light, surrounding a pillar. The image duplicated across the shard, as people burned their candles at both ends to fuel the creation of a muffling blanket meant to destroy any attempts to teleport through it. 

One that survived. 

She blinked as her momentum halted, abruptly finding herself staring at the tree that Emet-Selch's outstretched arm had prevented her from walking into. Turning to the right, she reoriented on their guide and resumed ambling along. 

"Don't worry about it. My mind drifts off sometimes. What were we talking about?"

"... I was asking if you should wish to fly. We are close enough now that I can maintain he enchantment until we reach my home. I am reconsidering, however, considering you will need to be able to focus to maintain a course."

"Oh. Wait, you mean like... -Me- fly?" She blinked at their guide, who nodded. "Me? _Me _me? Not just holding onto Emet-Selch as he drifts along?"

"Are... Are you always like this?" Kel'louch narrowed his eyes as she beamed at him. 

"I wanna fly! Do the thing!"

The Ascian on her back muffled a laugh into her scarf. 

* * *

It took a little bit to get used to. She had a tendency to look down, which meant that she lost altitude at a rapid pace several times during their trip. Fortunately, she still carried the Architect and he would periodically tap her under the chin to get her to look back up. It took them nearly a bell for them to reach a lone tower set in the middle of a seemingly barren wasteland. They all touched down on the landing, and Urianger took the opportunity to write madly into his little green book. The Warrior crouched and shifted Emet-Selch onto the balcony, letting him lean back against the railing so that he could continue resting as she straightened and looked outwards, letting out a low whistle. 

"Man. This place looks -drab-, sorry to say. Is the land as dead as it looks?"

"Not hardly. Wait for nightfall, and you will see the truth of the matter. We of what you call the Eighth _live_ for the night sky. Urianger, was it? I will introduce you to my mirror, considering you seem to be the individual that I will likely be working with in this regard." The delicate looking glass and wrought iron doors opened at Kel'louch's proximity, and the elezen followed with a subdued look of excitement, leaving the two of them on the balcony. 

"... Hey, Emet-Selch?"

"Hm...?"

"Are you... Did coming here -really- take a lot out've you?"

"If I had to say that I had, oh, a hundred points worth of magic, I would generally prefer to only ever use twenty five at most on the average day. For emergencies, fifty. I recover, essentially, theoretically speaking, minimum ten per day. More dependent upon the quality and quantity of the ambient aether. Teleporting from one point to another on the Source or a shard would cost one point. From the Source to the First and vice versa, five. Carrying a passenger, multiply that figure by two. Two passengers would be multiplied by two and a half, instead. In this land, I recover, oh, let us say fifteen for every eight hours I do... Nothing. Traveling from the Source to the Eighth quadrupled any associated costs." Eyes closed, the Architect yawned idly, sprawled more or less bonelessly as she thought about it for a moment. 

"Okay. So... Five times... Two and a half? Thirteen? Times... Four? Okay. I've got this. Four tens is fourty. Four threes is twelve. Fifty two-oh." The Warrior blinked at him, and pale gold eyes cracked open to watch her as she sat down in front of him, frowning. "More than half your magic?" 

"They were rough figures, given loosely, but I cannot deny that whatever it is that they did to restrict teleportation to this shard, 'tis certainly _effective_." 

"And we've been here for... Lessee, how many eight hour stretches. Four ish hours, then four and then Kel'louch showed up, so... Then six... Then we walked for four ish, round it down to four. And then flew for... One? So four and four and six and four and one. Eight and ten and one. Nineteen." 

"If such is how you break down math in your mind, then 'tis small wonder it takes you so long. Still, the method is certainly _effective_, provided you have the time to do so." The teasing lilt his tone had taken stole any sting form his words, though she did stick her tongue out at him. "Math is not your strong point, and yet you still make the attempt. Such can be considered admirable. If nothing else, the more you practice at it, the faster you can do it."

"Hades, if you start throwing -math- at me on a regular basis in an attempt to get me better at it, I'm _going_ to do something horribly drastic. Like put something red in with your whites when you do _laundry_. Or steal all your skirts." 

A gasp of mock despair escaped the Ascian, who lifted his hands to his mouth and looked utterly aghast. "Not the _skirts_! Oh, whatever shall I do! Aside from, naturally, ambling about without them. 'Tis a shame that we did not bring Thancred. Imagine the look on his _face_..."

"Hah! I'd be obligated to punch him, too. Wise man once said that admiring a view is all well and good, but your ass is _mine_. Along with the full frontal view."

Kel'louch stared at them through the open balcony doors. grimacing faintly. "... A mental image I could have continued without. Your friend believes he has found the Dark-Touched you have been searching for."

"Go on, little Monster. I will watch as is my wont." Closing his eyes once more, Emet-Selch rested his head back and smiled faintly as the Warrior leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek before she scampered off. 


	77. Eighth pt 2

The Warrior nimbly dropped through the hole that dominated the center of the tower, giving herself enough swing as she did to land lightly on the floor of the next level down. Peering about (she was_ curious_ after all) she took stock of what she found there. 

A ten by ten section of what she could only describe as ice dominated one part of the curved wall. The rest of the floor was taken up by shelves and chests and tables that were home to crystal, bags of luminescent powders, bits of plants and animals that she could only presume were reagents of some kind. Urianger stood in the middle of a circle, intent on the curved sheet of ice. Images flit across the surface, and the Warrior whistled lowly as they stilled at a top-down view of a sprawling city. 

"Where's that?"

"Two hours flight from here. One of the Sigil Cities. I would be pleased to know how, exactly, Halmarut returned with such ease and how he hides in plain sight." The crellbron folded his arms, floating as he watched the mirror. The view angled, shifting and then focusing on one of what appeared to be a number of slender spires of stone and glass. "And how you are looking for him."

"Thy methods are simply different from mine own. I am not tracing Halmarut, per say, so much as whatever being was leaking aether recently. Your circuits are all stilled, and he hath hopefully left the path that I now follow." 

"You are tracking by aether trail?" Kel'louch blinked rapidly for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Interesting. I would have only thought to do so against magic active against myself."

"In my time working beside the Ascians, I hath learned that such might be useful provided they do not simply teleport. Ascians are, after all, largely creatures of aether and possess such in far greater quantities than myself." The elezen smiled slightly, before tensing as an illusion of Emet-Selch manifested beside him. 

"Clever. Little Monster, what am I looking at?"

"One tower among many, made of some sort've pale stone coloured blue-ish but that might be the lighting. Dark opaque windows like broad leaves with metal scrolling through them. Less chonky than the tower we're in, but similar style balcony doors. It's like, uhh... Size ratio of the supporting tower to the actual round part is almost like a tulip." She ambled over, tilting her head. "Think he teleported here and then flew the rest of the way?"

"He must have. All teleportation within the field is dampened and suppressed." Kel'louch narrowed his eyes, before drifting a little closer to the mirror. "Such is why we do not practice such things. We have not used aetherite since before we clicked shut the lock." 

"While he may be able to pass through the suppression field, I would hazard a guess that he is injured and as such did not make it unscathed. He may have entered a period of rest, which would explain why he has yet to answer to my presence." The illusion of the Ascian folded black-robed arms, before he turned to orient on their host. "You will fly us there?"

The Warmage snorted, tossing his head back and sending rippled through his hair. "No. I will fly _Warrior_ there. I will _not_ bring a Dark-Touched into one of the Sigil Cities, and I only do this to take that one _out_. The last thing I need is for the other crellbron to notice you and think that I have _turned_ on them."

She perked up, looking at Kel'louch. "Fly? I'm going to fly again?" 

"No. But I _will_ carry you-" Their host went very still as the Ascian's vessel drifted down through the hole and then touched down by the Warrior, wrapping his arms around her from behind so that he could tuck his face against her neck. 

"If any harm befalls you, I _will_ raze this world. Current issue with the tempered Ascians be _damned_." Came his muffled promise.

"D'aww, I know." She turned her face slightly, rubbing her cheek against his hair and lifting her hands to tuck them against his own. "But don't you think that's selling me a bit short? I'm the Warrior of Light. And Darkness. Honourary ward of Ishgard, slayer of primals and uniter of Eorzea. Hydaelyn's chosen. What's the _worst_ that could happen, someone kills me? Eh? _Eh?_ 'Sides, you know that if I need you, I'll whistle Remember? All I gotta do, is put my lips together, and _blow_."

A quiet huff answered her, before the Architect shifted to her side and gently kissed her. It only lasted for a moment before he broke away and went to sit down, back against the wall. "Go on then."

She beamed at him, and then turned towards the Warmage, ignoring the look of mild disgust on his face. "Alright! Shall we?"

* * *

"Whatever do you _see_ in that... That _thing_."

"Aww, admit it, part of you thinks he's cute." 

"I utterly lack an attraction to all things physical. What is it he called you? Little Monster?" Kel'louch quirked an almost non-existent eyebrow, and she snickered even as she kept one arm secure around his shoulders. His arms were under her knees and back, and for all they were close in height her wrists were bigger around than his biceps. Still, he carried her essentially effortlessly, hair streaming behind him like a banner. 

"Right. Dead man walking. I forgot about that. Yeah, it's... Complicated."

"We have a bell and a half."

She rolled her eyes, glancing at the faint ripple that preceded them and kept the worst of the wind at bay. "Alright. So. We're both monsters. That's undeniable-"

"You seem like no monster I have ever encountered."

"Can you _let_ me finish? I didn't barely even get started!" The Warrior flicked him in the forehead, drawing a narrow-eyed glare before he re-focused on maintaining his flight. "So! He's a monster. Yeah. I mean, that's _obvious_. He's an Ascian. The things he did while tempered are just... _Atrocious_. But he's working on making up for those. Bit by bit. He won't be done in my lifetime, but hopefully he'll keep trying. Now me? Different type of monster. I'm relentless. I don't give up when I've got a goal in front of me. I've got a bad temper, tend to think of people as 'mine' so when others hurt them that just makes me angrier. I also tend to choose who lives and who dies, so for the people who've lost folks in fights that I didn't choose to live, well... I'm sure they must hate me. For every person I've ever saved, there's two I've missed, or failed to. And that's just the personal view. I've been called a monster loads've times. I kill people's _gods_ for a living, and I don't even get _paid_ for it."

"Do you kill rampantly, for no reason?"

"Not that kind've monster. There's different types, y'know? Good monsters and bad monsters. It all comes down to how strong you are and what people think about you. 'Sides, I stopped counting the number of times I've walked into a place covered in blood, some my own but most not. And there's the time I peeled metal panels off the side of the building to get in, 'cause I couldn't figure out how to get the door to open..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful. "But yeah. I _hate_ being called a hero. So he doesn't. He calls me his little Monster, instead. 'Cause nobody _normal_ can do the things I can. And he _gets_ that. But he also gets that I'm not just a weapon. Not just a monster. Not just a warrior."

"He makes you _breakfast_."

She blinked at Kel'louch. A small smile crossed her features, and she sighed softly. 

"Yeah..."

He gave her an exasperated look. "Weave take me, you are just... _Hopeless_ when it comes to the Dark-Touched."

"What? Just that one specifically!" The Warrior's smile shifted to a sheepish one, and she rubbed the back of her head. "He's... Okay, so don't you _dare_ laugh at him, but he's been waiting for me for a very long time. We knew each other, before the big fight. He was my husband, and I was his wife. I think that helped him stave off the worst of the tempering. But... He's loved me _forever_. And even if I didn't love him in this life, he'd _respect_ that and then wait for my next life. Thing is..." 

She frowned, and the warmage tilted his head slightly, watching her out of his peripherals as he focused on their path through the sky. "... Thing is I dunno if there's going to _be_ a next one. There's all this stuff going on and Hydaelyn's dying and it feels like things are picking up. Ascians don't normally move that fast, and the ones I've freed are all scrambling to keep up to _my_ pace, and now things are starting to move faster than what _I_ can keep up with."

"You believe that you will stretch too thin and be unable to prevent everything from falling apart?"

"I mean, _yeah_. Sure there's things I can do, but there's also a lot that I can't. And I have to rely on people for those things, even if it means facing the fact that they might die. That I won't be able to _save_ them. When you forged the Lock, you felt that way too, didn't you?"

"It was an _honour_ for everyone to sacrifice themselves-"

"You were still _sad_ after." She smiled at him, and he stared at her, head tilted as their destination came into view on the horizon. 

"... I was. But their sacrifice, was not made in vain. Enough of this. We are nearly there." 

Her smile grew at his sudden enforced silence, and she simply turned her face to study the incoming gleaming spires. 

* * *

They drifted to the tower. She realized immediately that people were both _staring_ at the two of them, and _avoiding_ them both. She refrained from asking, despite how much she wanted to know, and instead hopped down once he reached the balcony. Holding one hand out, the warmages face twisted into one of bafflement. 

"I... Cannot open this...?"

"Here. Scootch." She drew one curved blade, and he obligingly drifted to the side, wary. She had poked her way through his magic previously, but this... This was something _impenetrable_ by his standards for the short term. Such would require extensive preperation-

"Wait here a tick." She flourished the blade, and then cleaved downwards. He watched as the aether split, and she nudged one of the doors open with the tip of the blade, sheathed it, and then stepped in. "Hey! Halmarut! Don't explode me please! You in he-Oh _fuck_-"

And then she was whistling, one loud, long note. Kel'louch drifted in and widened his eyes as he saw the body, sprawled across the floor in a congealed pool of it's own blood. She had crouched down, tucked two fingers against the neck to find a pulse and grimaced. 

"Djehuty, I know you're not dead yet, c'mon, _move__!"_ She carefully rolled him over, and sucked in a breath at the claw marks that were raked across the torso, robe tattered. A ripple in the air formed beside her, and the Ascian that had brought her there materialized and dropped Urianger before touching down and staggering slightly. The body shuddered, and Emet-Selch looked around quickly before cupping his hands in the air. "You got him?"

"The damage is extensive. He largely abandoned the body due to the damage to it, but if you can stabilize it I can guide him into it and stabilize the rest of him. He has done much of the work himself, however..." Trailing off, the Architect tutted and watched as the elezen crouched down and held out his hands, starting to try and heal the worst of the wounds. "There is some manner of... 'Tis almost a poison, little Monster, laced through his aether. He has it contained, but his efforts to do so are slowly failing."

"Dying faster than he can heal, then? Hey! Wake up, old bird! Eyes open." She shifted to prop him up somewhat, and black eyes fluttered open as the body drew in a ragged breath. "There we go. See? I brought the two most capable people I know of. We're gunna get up up and attem quick-like, alright?"

"I will have to consult with Elidibus and Igeyorhm regarding whatever it is that lingers in his system, but I have him largely stabilized. Urianger?" Pale gold eyes flit down tot he elezen, who wore a look of focus and concentration and nodded slowly. 

"He can be moved, should thou take the utmost care. The body is still fragile, however such is mostly due to bloodloss and starvation."

"Can you bring him back to the Source?" The Warrior peered up at Emet-Selch, who grimaced, but nodded. "Hey, you can always come back for m-..."

He _stared_ at her, and she started to nervously sweat. "Haha, just joking?"

"Here. Use this." Kel'louch pulled the chunk of crystal that made up his left eye from his head, holding it out to the Architect. "Such should lessen the cost. I _expect_ that you give this to your Warrior for safe-keeping once you have arrived upon this... Source."

"What- Wait, really? You're giving him your _eyeball__?_ What's it do?" She peered at it, before stooping to scoop the raggedly-breathing vessel up and lean to peer at it. For all that Halmarut's body was a half a foot taller than her, she carried it with ease. 

"It acts as an accelerator. It is also attuned to the Lock, and thus should allow you to pass easier through." The warmage let a slight smile twitch his lips upwards. "Do _not_ lose it. Do _not_ break it." 

"Promise. Thank's. I'll remember this, yeah?" She grinned at him, before ambling to stand next to the Architect. 

"No, thank _you_. You have come to remove the Dark-Touched that returned to our world when we were unaware of such. Now then, what do you need to do to leave?"

"Nothing." Emet-Selch tucked a hand under the crystal eye, and it rotated slowly in place above his palm to _look_ at him. Ignoring the odd way it was studying him, he turned and stared at one wall until a ripple of darkness expanded outwards. "Go. Go and go _now_."

The Warrior bolted through, Urianger stepped in after her and the Ascian followed without a backwards glance.

Kel'louch spent a moment dithering before cupping one hand over the empty hole and watching through his absent eye.


	78. Doppelganger

Emet-Selch knew _exactly_ what the eyeball was. He was neither aether-blind nor _stupid_, and as the one drawing on the traits the crystal provided he had damn well made sure to double check it for anything that might _hurt_. It wasn't quite the same as a dark crystal, but it held enough personal aether to act as an anchor point for a single soul. Considering he doubted the fragment had possessed another, he thought that the warmage was being either incredibly _trusting_ or incredibly _dumb_ to have handed such a thing over with such ease. 

That told him several things in and of itself. One, in the event that this fragment was not, in fact, an _idiot_ that they were testing the Warrior and the Ascians and that he wanted to find out for himself if there actually _was_ a Source. Two, that something his little Monster had said had solicited interest in the going-ons of the Source and the Shards, the conflict with the tempered Ascians, and the primals. And, last but not least, that Kel'louch was _bored_. Three hundred years was a long time to have nothing happen, and if the way his home looked like a dustbowl and was possessed of a ridiculously large floating _bed_ he probably spent the spare time doing the same thing Emet-Selch did between schemes.

_Sleeping_.

Still, it let him slip through the enervating aether without much trouble, and it only took a brief moment of prodding to find a safe spot to put them all in Azys Lla. A flare of his aether had three answering him, and as they all exited the rift they had gathered on the platform. Igeyorhm immediately took Halmarut from the Warrior, promising to do what she could and turned to start heading for another rift that would take her, her burden and Urianger to the living quarters. The Warrior watched her go, frowning and looking towards Emet-Selch as he tucked the crystal into her hand. 

"... Think he'll be alright?"

"Halmarut is resourceful and has a strength of his own. He survived this long, he will be fine with time." Elidibus steepled his hands idly in front of himself, tilting his head as he frowned. "What is that you carry?"

"Fragment's eyeball. So while they help him, we get Emet-Selch resting and recovering and wait for him to tell us what happened. 'Cause Pashtarot's out there somewhere. He's _got_ to be. He's not going to just roll over and _die_." She turned to look towards the Architect, who shrugged and folded his arms.

"Once Halmarut is able to coherantly communicate we shall have a better understanding of what transpired. In the mean time, little Monster, I believe Lahabrea has our defenses well in hand?" An eyebrow was quirked towards the hatchling that had landed on the Emissary's shoulders and nodded. 

_[I do. Azys Lla is as safe as i can make it for the time being, and with every moment that passes it becomes safer still. It would be _ **_easier_ ** _of course if Tiamat would get off her bloody tail and stop **brooding**. But she won't.]_

"If anyone could convince her, Speaker, it'd be you." The Warrior gave him a tired grin before looking at Emet-Selch once more. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

* * *

She couldn't sleep. She was _worried_. She was _concerned_ about what might have bushwhacked two Ascians that were going into their mission -expecting- it. After an hour or so, she slipped from the bed and exited the room, taking to restless pacing through the halls until she found herself outside of one of the doors. Blinking, she stepped forward and watched as it opened for her to reveal a somewhat plain room. 

Halmarut lay on the bed, breathing quietly as Igeyorhm and Urianger sat at the small table nearby, conversing quietly. They both looked up as she entered, and she offered them a friendly wave. 

"How's he doing?" 

"Stable. Largely unconscious, however. Bleeding his aether wouldn't work to remove whatever the poison was. The astrologian and I were discussing what it might have been." Igeyorhm gestured to the elezen, who quirked a brow. "... Sorry. What was your name again? I do not always pay attention to such things with regards to the average mortal."

"Urianger, Miss Igeyorhm. The Whisperer hath removed what she could, however some yet still persists. With time, he will awaken and his aether shall yet defeat that which ails him. Our attempts to awaken him, however, hath fallen short of the mark." A polite nod had been offered to the Ascian, before he looked back at the Warrior. "Thou roused him, upon the Eighth, enough so that he accepted his dying vessel with nary a hesitation." 

"A sort've last ditch effort. He needs his rest, just as much as we need answers. I need you both to step out've the room for a moment, though. I'm going to try something, and I need him to be the only thing this picks up."

"Thou intends to attempt to trigger thy Echo and discern our foe?" The quirked eyebrow was aimed at the Warrior, who nodded slowly. "Very well. Come, Miss Igeyorhm."

She _hesitated,_ watching the way the Warrior stepped up to the prone figure on the bed and then sat down on the edge, Urianger waited for her at the door, however, and the two of them stepped out into the hall. Even after the door closed, the Warrior could feel that she was being watched and remained still until that too faded. She sat unmoving for another long moment, before sighing and lifting her hands to her temples. 

This aspect of the Echo had always _nettled_ her. Unpredictable, it showed her whatever it damn well pleased provided such was loosely related to whatever she needed. And then, on top of that, whatever she _didn't_. Though, some of that had probably been Hydaelyn. Still, between the way she was swapping out 'portraits' and then triggering it, what she wanted to do should work in _theory_. 

Tucking a hand against her chest, she settled the other against the bandages across the Ascian's vessel, closed her eyes, and gathered herself. 

Her aether _cringed_, and for a brief moment she felt almost like she might puke as her world _spun-_

* * *

They had just touched down on the Ninth, in an arid landscape next to a rose-coloured lake. Most of the things there were _poisonous_ but survivable. Pashtarot was standing guard as Halmarut began the lengthy process of scrying in such a manner that it _should_ have been if not impossible, than difficult to discern or trace. 

They hadn't stood a chance. 

One moment they were each focused on their individual tasks, the next, Pashtarot was tensing slightly at the faintest of realizations that everything was too _quiet_, and then there were six tempered Ascians surrounding them, each one aiming for the Weaver. The Champion had made it the two steps required to haul Halmarut to the ground and give him cover, aether hardening and aether pushing _out_ to repel what he could but a snap of fingers tore the strength of his spellcasting asunder. 

Standing a dozen fulms away, stood a dark robed figure with a familiar glowing glyph that partially obscured the mask. 

"Well well, finally decided to send the rest of you out to _play_, have they?"

_(She would have known that voice -anywhere-.)_

"Weaver. They need to _know_." Pashtarot settled into a defensive stance, Halmarut pushing himself up and tucking his back against the Champion's. 

"I understand. Any last words?" The Weaver raised his hands slowly, warily watching the circle of tempered Ascians. 

"Elidibus gets my CD collection."

They both threw themselves into the casting of a rift, and Halmarut dropped through quickly before it snapped shut only to find himself in a large room, surrounded by voidsent. A trap, then. Small wonder it had opened in the first place, that the tempered had seemed to react a half-second too late. The Weaver found himself rather suddenly having to weave shields about himself that did little more than cause him to get bounced around the room as the various entities attacked him. He searched as he went, focus split to try and find a way out. There would be one. There was _always_ one, to let the maker of the trap out if nothing else. 

If he were Emet-Selch, where would he have put the exit? 

A three-headed creature dominated one side of the room. Well now. That looked promising. 

He managed to make his way over, shields thrumming with the constant barrage of the other occupants in the room, and-

One of the heads had reared back and then snapped forward, sinking into his shoulder, sinking into his aether, and the shield vanished in time for the three headed monsters forelimb to lash out and practically disembowel him. But he was _there_, he was focusing through the pain, reaching and pulling himself through the rift to the one place he knew they couldn't follow easily. 

His vessel buckled, hitting the floor in the quiet stillness of a home he hadn't visited in some time. He would... He would just rest, find a way to purge the burning from the body and his aether... 

He would... 

He would _faint_ and know no more.

* * *

Sucking in a breath, the Warrior didn't bother to wait for the world to stop spinning. Surging to her feet, relying on years of functioning when the world tipped and swayed unpredictably, she made it to the door, bolted past where Igeyorhm and Urianger were lingering, and then abruptly halted and backtracked. 

"Igeyorhm! Get Elidibus and Lahabrea, and get them _right now_. We're meeting in Emet-Selch's rooms _immediately_. Urianger, stay with him and make sure he makes it, alright?"

She didn't give them much of an opportunity to answer, breaking into a dead run along the hallway. The three Ascians were waiting for her outside by the time she made it there, and as the door opened they let her go in first. 

"Emet-Selch! Architect! I figured it out! It was you! But it wasn't you!" She came to a stop by the couch where one of the vessels was dozing lightly, and she collected him by the coats and started to shake him. "C'mon! Wakey wakey!"

Gloved hands came up and curled around her wrists to prompt her to stop as the vessel's face screwed up in baffled consternation and tired pale gold eyes cracked open. "By your Twelve, whatever is the racket about-"

"I dunno how He's done it but there's another you floating about the Shards! Helped kick Halmarut and Pashtarot's asses! That's how they got the blueprints! That's why they don't need them translated, 'cause there's a you out there translating them!" She twisted to stare at the three Ascians that had followed her in. "Any ideas on how they could've done that?"

Caught off guard, the white-robed figure frowned. "... To completely recreate someone would still require a fragment of their soul, regardless of how small. The Architect is unsundered, and so it must be a shade."

"A shade would not be able to access the Secrets of the Emet-Selch." Straightening his collar now that the Warrior had released it, said Architect turned her around and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her from behind to tuck his face against her shoulder. 

_[But you're -unsundered-. It's not as though parts of you are just **floating around**.] _ Lahabrea gestured with a forelimb as he flit about the room, settling down on the arm of the couch. _[Still, we should have Igeyorhm check-]_

"I _know_ the state of my own _soul_." Emet-Selch snapped at the hatchling, lips curling into a tired sneer. "I _am_ unsundered in the important sense of the word, and the only piece of _me_ that is separate from myself lies against the forearm of my _wife_." 

Said wife lifted her arm, pointing to the chunk of crystal as if to prove that yes, it was still there, only to pause. "... Oh. Oh _no_. I need... I need to hit a spot you guys don't have barricaded against teleportation. I gotta call Feo Ul. I did the thing with the bit of you that was partially tempered by Zodiark after Elidibus hit you, but I never confirmed that the auracite I'd hauled the first round into was destroyed. I sent word for them to do it, but..."

"But I was still, largely, the _enemy_ in their eyes at that time. That _would_ potentially be enough to have 'raised' me from a mortal state to that of an Ascian." He sullenly muttered the words into the back of her scarf, arms tightening around her. "... They would be more Zodiark's tempering than love for you, if the ratio is anything to go by."

"How open would he be to reason? Beyond, y'know, tempered." She glanced to Elidibus, who shook his head. 

"Not very. The process is as such. The base source material, that being a fragment of the soul, is brought before Zodiark. From there, He reconstructs them based upon what it is that He knows of them. He knows the Convocation members incredibly well, however there is only so much that once can remain the same while... Fragmented. Something Emet-Selch knows particularly well." The Emissary idly folded his hands, sleeves covering them. "He may be self-aware enough to realize that most of what he is, is bloated with Zodiark's power and void-based aether to grant him some semblance of power similar to what the... Original, before us, holds. He may not. Either way, I doubt there is enough of him in comparison to balance his tempering with his love for you."

"Which means we will very likely have to contend with a weakened version of the Architect, who knows everything he did likely until the moment you tore his tempering out." Igeyorhm frowned beneath her mask. "Or at least everything he considered important." 

"So point of order, I contact King, ask her to check with the Exarch about the auracite, and- Oh yeah, by the way they got bushwhacked on the... Uhh... There was a pink lake? Bits of scrub and forest nearby. Sky was blue, but everything seemed slightly, I dunno, orange." The Warrior grimaced. 

"Little Monster, aside from the pink lake that could be anywhere, including somewhere on the Source." 

"I _know_. While you all try and figure that out though, lemme up so I can run and call for Feo Ul alright?" She patted his hands, and he reluctantly let her go so that she could stand up and look to Lahabrea. "Where's the closest point?"

_[Here. I'll just take you there. It doesn't restrict teleportation within the field, just that which might pass through the barrier.] _He flit over, landing on her shoulder and glancing to the side where a rift opened. _[Besides, I don't think I've ever met this 'Feo Ul'.]_

"Hah! Nah, probably not." She turned slightly, waving to the sprawled out Emet-Selch and then hustled her way through the rift. All remaining eyes turned to him, and he heaved a sigh. 

"I _am_ supposed to be resting, you know."

"If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?" Elidibus quirked a brow hidden by his mask, and pale gold eyes rolled in answer.

"Lovely. We are doing this _now_, then. I _wouldn't_."


	79. Chapter 79

"Hey, I just wanted to say that you're doing great, and that I'm glad you're helping us." She smiled at the hatchling she was wearing like a second scarf as she leaned on the balcony railing. A ripple marked where the shields had been raised once more, and she turned her face back out towards it so that she could watch the swirls of the clouds. Feo Ul had come and gone, and all that was left was to wait for their return.

_[... You're... Welcome, Eschaton. I will admit I'm only half invested in this. I was one of the prime advocates for the Zodiark project, after all. It was me that convinced most of the others.]_ He followed her gaze, grinding his jaw slightly as he let out a low growl. _[I still don't think I was **wrong**. We needed to save the Star.]_

"That's fair. And, in your defense, you _did_. The doom was halted. The Star was brought back to life. Nobody was at their best when He was summoned. It was a pretty stressful time." She shrugged slightly, before sighing. "We were both right, and we were both wrong. All that we can do, is move forward."

_[Did you _ ** _really_ ** _ spare me the sundering because you hated me?]_

"If the reason was a pie, that'd be two thirds've it."

_[And the other third?]_ He shifted, latching onto the scarf so that he could lean out and meet her eye. She blinked at him, before tilting her head. 

"You're looking for something that isn't there, Bythos. Sure, there was fondness, but it was after you seemed to pull your head out've your ass. It was the same kind of fondness for Mitron. Out of all the Convocation members, I knew you, Emet-Selch and Elidibus the best. You, because you never let me be for too long. Elidibus because of Elidibus and Emet-Selch because I love him. And the easiest people you can defeat, once you take out all the personal feelings, are the ones you've built bonds with 'cause you _know_ them. I think I was also counting on how well you all knew _me_ to hinder you. Worked wonders, in the case of the Architect." 

_[So that's it then.] _Lahabrea looked outwards, nostrils flaring until she jostled him gently. 

"Don't be like that. Emmerololth's held a candle for you for _eons_, y'know. You'd see it to, if you'd just stop chasing the memory of a shadow and actually look around for a moment." 

_[The **Water Bearer**? Really? That's the -best- you can come up with?] _The hatchling leapt from her shoulder, landing on the railing and balancing easily with his wings shifting and shuffling against his back. _[Whatever it is that you've been **drinking**, you might as well share.]_

"I'm serious. She's always been a half-step behind you, supporting you. She sasses you. She's your equal in all things, sundered or not. Why do you think she always teased you about using different languages in scrabble?" One of her hands shifted up to riffle the frill along the back of his head until he ducked out from under it.

_[You... You remember those times, then.] _Pale yellow eyes oriented around and up to meet her own, narrowing as she shrugged.

"Sort've. Bits and pieces. I remember you throwing _cheese_ at me. I remember looking at all the buzzed Convocation members and trying to figure out who was less drunk and thus good to take the others to their apartments without getting lost. Mostly? I remember the feel of it all. The feeling that those moments, they could last forever. And now I know better, but that doesn't make them any less valuable. If anything, it makes those memories more precious." She offered him a soft smile, before looking back out towards the shifting clouds. "I remember... How passionate you used to get, at the Hall of Rhetoric. Really _bad_ pun wars. Alliteration chains. How excited you used to get when the children succeeded at spelling one difficult word or another, and how encouraging you were to the ones that failed." 

_[I remember you parading a number of birds across my workspace, trying to get me to teach them how to **talk**.]_ The Speaker rumbled, shaking his head and curling his tail around the railing. _[I finally broke down and did so for some of the more colourful ones.]_

"Heh. Oh yeah, that reminds me. You can't alter your form, can you. I'd suggest finding Estinien and talking to him about it when you get the chance. He's turned into Nidhogg and back, after all. That's going to be a task in and of itself, though, since he's not likely to take any sassing you bring to the table laying down. I'd search Ishgard for Ser Aymeric and then ask him, if you want to figure out where the dragoon went."

_[Hmpf! I don't need a sundered little wyrm to tell me how to do something I've done for eons. But enough of that. Your fae friend returns.]_

She smiled, and looked out at where a sparkle was building in the air.

* * *

"Okay, so Thancred swears on his life that he destroyed the auracite after I asked him to, but admits that there was some funky business after he'd dug it up that delayed him a little bit. Apparently he was about to, but then Ryne called him away for something. Ryne, who was in the room when King asked the gunblade what happened, said she'd never called him away for anything. So we think that one of the Ascians disguised themselves as her to fool him and keep him busy long enough for the tempered Ascians to swap the auracite." The Warrior flopped down onto the couch next to the Architect's empty vessel as an illusion of him hovered nearby. 

"Well, if nothing else I am _impressed_ that he moved to destroy it so swiftly at all." The black-clad illusion folded his arms, huffing idly. 

"Right. So, about this, uhh... this really tempered you? I-"

"_Kill it_."

The Warrior blinked leaning back at the vehemence that all but dripped from his tone. "... That's, uhh.."

"I know what you would say, little Monster. And I am telling you now, that if I cross this pretenders path, I will do _far worse_. You, at least, would honour the association and the fact that such is born from my own soul and grant it a merciful, swift death. There is also the chance that, should I encounter it before you, that similar to how Ardbert merged with your soul so too might this piece attempt to fuse with myself. If it does so, I will be _tainted_. Tempered, and glutted on void magics that shall very likely strengthen it's hold." He lifted his chin, starting at her intently even as his expression twisted into a scowl. "I will _not_ be used against you as a weapon, little Monster." 

"Right. I mean, I _get_ that. But. You really think you can stand letting _me_ wade out into what's _probably_ going to be a hell've a fight, without you? Now I'm not the _brightest_ but I'm pretty sure that I couldn't go off and get myself into trouble without you staring off into the distance after me, ears straining for me to whistle. Case in point, the Eighth. Which, thanks by the way. I dunno if you can actually hear me at distances like that but I'm damn glad that you could."

"So long as you carry _that_-" He unfolded his arms to gesture to the chunk of his essence that was strapped to her forearm as he pointedly didn't answer her question. "-I will known when you need me."

"That reminds me. So, you said, a long time ago, that you could feel when I touched it, right?" The Warrior blinked at him, before looking down at it. "Can I try something?"

"So long as such is unlikely to _damage_ it. All that I ask, is that you do so carefully." Emet-Selch watched her through the aether, before blinking as she reached out clumsily with her own. Her eyes narrowed, a look of concentration crossing her features as she slowly, carefully tried to wrap her aether around the small piece of his that she carried. It wasn't much, just an inexperienced attempt to seek contact, to touch his aether with the quiet, gentle feeling of love and tenderness that had his aether warming and gently brushing back against her to reciprocate. "Well now, that _is_ a pleasant thing."

"It's the closest I can think of for a hug for your aether. I mean, sure, I like hugging your vessels too, but it's a _relationship_. It shouldn't just be always you trying to meet me, I gotta try and meet you too. 'Sides, best way to get good at something is to practice, right?" She flashed a quick smile at the illusion he had parked in the middle of the room, before she shifted to sprawl out and use his nearby vessel as a pillow, hands tucking behind her head. "Though, not gunna lie, I keep fighting the urge to _lick_ it."

That got an easy chuckle from the Ascian. "The sensations may not translate quite as well as you might think, little Monster."

"I figured as much. But, y'know, I still get the _urge_ to." 

* * *

Halmarut eased reluctantly into consciousness. His aether felt fever-hot and any attempt to stretch out to cool off was futile. He felt _slow_, and his vessel ached. 

Still... 

The memory of his name tickled him. He'd been close, drifting, unraveling almost peacefully until it had eased across his sensibilities. After that, the Weaver had been possessed of the oddest sensation of being _held_, cradled, and then nothing. And now...

Black eyes cracked open. The eye holes in his mask framed his view of the ceiling of his rooms in Azys Lla, and the faint smell of some type of green tea suffused the room. He could feel the presence of the elezen, Urianger, that he had met on the First, and slowly turned his head to find that he was, in fact, sitting at the small table with a steaming cup near by. 

"Ah, thou hast awoken, at last. We were all concerned that thou may not do thus so quickly, considering the extent of the damage. I have observed that Ascians are perhaps not quite as difficult to defeat as we had initially observed." Setting his book aside, the astrologian started to pour some of the tea into a second cup.

"Technically, we are not. We feel the pain of our vessels only marginally less keenly than you, however their loss is not... crippling. The major issue is that they know what works against us, as they too are Ascians. I don't suppose...?" 

Urianger nodded, moving over to start helping Halmarut sit up, propping him up with pillows before returning to fetch the tea for the Weaver. It was eased into the Ascian's grasp and sipped carefully. 

"Ah... Thank you. I suppose I should report, while I am able to. The others are doubtless anxious to understand what it is that has been brought against us." The cup was lowered carefully, and he looked to Urianger with a slight frown. "They have some manner of an aether-attuned Ostiumhydra. Three heads, guarding the exit to a beacon-based teleportation trap. Such was the cause of my wounds. We were ambushed on the Ninth, and Pashtarot bought me the time required to teleport away before I found myself trapped there. I strongly believe they may have simply killed him, considering his disposition is rather counter to standard interrogation methods. Is... Emet-Selch-?"

"He knows. They hath already confirmed that what you saw was an attempted raising of the portion the Warrior had cleaved free of him and bore his tempering. Such was how they entered his Vault and stole his blueprints." Turning to collect his chair, Urianger brought it over and then sat down next to the bed, reaching out to hold his hand over the Weavers chest. "... Thy vessel will be fully healed on the morrow. Should you wish to, thou may yet get up and walk, if such is thy intent. If nothing else, thy current state is less injured than I hath seen the Warrior in when she attempts to sneak out."

"I am... Not as brave as Elidibus, to get out of bed when I feel I might barely be able to walk." Halmarut chuckled softly, before wincing and tucking his hand against his chest. "No, I think... I will stay right here. Igeyorhm was near when I began to speak, and left once I asked after the Architect." 

"I am... Surprised, honestly. Between Elidibus, Emet-Selch and the Scions I did come to the conclusion that the ability to remain still and heal was an unheard of thing." The astrologian smiled slightly, leaning back in the chair. "As the Weaver, would thou be willing to indulge mine curiosity regarding magic 'pon the Eighth?"

"Of course. We are allies. Ask your questions, and I will answer until I tire." Halmarut lifted his tea, taking a sip and smiling slightly as the pale gold eyes of the elezen lit up.

* * *

_Far and away, in a tower on another Shard, a number of people stood around a horizontal table of ice across the surface of which current events on the Source were playing out. Kel'louch folded his arms, staring at the assembled crellbron after relaying to them what he had been told. They had been reluctant to listen to him at first, but the loss of his phylactery was a hefty weight and any attempts to scry for it had led all eyes out among the stars. It was his proof, above and beyond the information he carried and the images that flashed across the table. _

_Was this truly their problem, they asked him. He pointed to the way the moon was within the Lock, and that if nothing else others -would- come for it. It was part of the Dark-Touched god, and held captive the souls of those that had brought it into existence to save the Star from something called the 'Doom'. _

_Three hundred years, he told them. Three hundred years had the sacrifice of countless kept safe their world. And now he had not only irrefutable proof that outside, among the stars were other worlds being targeted by the Dark-Touched, but that there were those out there who were actively fighting them. Sure, -they- were largely safe, but there were others out there that... Weren't. _

_And it was, above all else, the duty of the crellbron to protect the younglings. Wherever they may be._

_His words were met with silence, before glowing eyes met his single remaining one. Ever so slightly, they all straightened, one after the other, and within the next toll they had scattered. By the time they returned, he was ready, and together they worked to bring about the first purpose they had received in three centuries._


	80. Chapter 80

"Elidibus!" 

"... Warrior." He didn't bother to look up from where he was stretched out on his back under a console, the panels off and laid aside so that he could get to the wiring and chunks of crystal therein. Instead, he blinked when instead of being lit by the glow from his manifested glyph a beam of light from a flashlight lit what he was doing. He took advantage of the better visibility to work out where exactly the cable he was trying to connect was supposed to go. 

Ah. There it was. The _sata_ port. Completely missing from the board. Explained why he couldn't find it. He scrounged around for another and got to work repairing the board, hoping he had read the manual Emet-Selch had lent him properly.

"Whatcha doin'?"

The tone was innocent enough, but he _knew_ her. Both as Eschaton, and as Priscilla. It was a good tone, laced with mild curiosity similar to what a tame chocobo might have when it was staring at you for attention but also wanting to know what it was that was in your hands. He held out long enough to fix the port and plug the cable in, before shifting and starting to make his way out from under the console, sitting up. 

"There are a number of stations such as this that have been damaged over the years. While I may still be recovering and am as of yet a liability should I leave the Source, small things such as this are easily fixed provided I have the tools and manuals to do so. The Architect graciously allowed me ample access to both. However, I suspect such is largely unimportant to you." 

She smiled sheepishly, scritching the side of her masked face with one hand and turning off the flashlight with the other as he waved away his glyph. "Caught me. I need you to take me somewhere. And I need Emet-Selch not to know. Not yet, at least. I'm tryin' to see if a surprise I set up for him is ready yet."

"And you ask that I should risk his wrath." Pushing himself up, a flick of the Emissary's fingers had his white robes shedding dirt and dust and looking pristine once more. 

"I, uhh-"

"Where are we off to?"

She grinned at him, and clapped her hands together. "_Knew_ I could count on you! Kugane!" 

A rift opened, and he bowed politely and gestured for her to walk through it. When she stepped out, she turned to open her mouth and mention that Elidibus might want to wear something _other_ than white Ascian robes only to falter and stare at what exactly walked out with her. Oh, it was certainly the _Emissary_, of that there could be no doubt, but he was... 

He was only a handspan of inches taller than her, to start. Leaning slightly, she surveyed what he was wearing and realized he was wearing -flats-. _Familiar_ flats. Flats that disappeared under plain grey thaumaturge robes with the hood pulled down and a staff angled across his back. Red eyes closed to mere slits peered out from a pale, angular face that had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his pert nose. Short black_ unruly_ hair partially covered his eyes, and he glanced at her before quirking a pencil-thin eyebrow.

"While I _appreciate_ the pause my face seems to have given you, need I remind you that it's only a matter of time before Emet-Selch comes to investigate our absence?" 

"Nope! Just forgot about your freckles. C'mon, let's go to the airship landing." Beaming, she snagged him by the wrist and dragged him along, slowing as he stumbled and then matched her pace. 

"Why are we here, if I may inquire?" 

"That." She pointed with her other hand towards a distant airship that drifted over the water. "The Prima Vista. In between moments, I sent a few letters and a fairy. Also I gotta remember to talk to Igeyorhm sometime soon." 

"The Whisperer? May I inquire after what you might need from her?" He was keeping pace better now, and with how her grip had loosened carefully reclaimed his wrist from her grasp. People waved and called out to her, and she smiled as she waved pack and held up one hand in a gesture of apology even as she kept moving. 

"Long ago, I gave part've myself to Emet-Selch. And I mean that literally. He made it into a ring and wore it right until I broke it. I wanna make him one myself, but I gotta figure out how to do that, first off, and I want her on hand in the event I somehow fuck up and _miss_." She fished a small box out of a pocket, offering it out. "It's not -fancy-, but... This is what I'm gunna put it in. It's made of petrified dragon bone, so it's not liable to break and won't get too hot or too cold." 

Elidibus blinked rapidly for a moment, before a slight smile quirked the corners of his lips upwards. Accepting the box, he cracked it open and relied upon his other senses to keep him from walking into any lamp posts or losing her in the crowd. Within the box sat what she described, an empty diamond-shaped hole in one spot that when he tilted the ring one way and then another to study it, looked as though it went a little deeper in the sides. "You plan to shape the piece so that it tucks into the notches there and cannot be dislodged."

"I do. It's _shaping_ it that's gunna be the hard part, and I'm also hoping she can give me some pointers on how t'do that. I had to pull a few favours in Ishgard to get that." She glanced back, grinning at him as he tucked the ring back into the box and then accepted it as he offered it back out. "I've got it all planned out, which means he'll never see it coming. There's gunna be a proper play, 'cause he likes those, and then I'm gunna ask him to marry me again."

"From what I can tell, and I do apologize for such is an incredibly intimate thing and utterly none of my business, you have already renewed your Bond with him. Strengthened it. This is an unnecessary step." They were at the airship dock, and she laughed easily as she held the door for him. 

"But don't you see? That's exactly why i've gotta. We're both unnecessarily dramatic folk when you get right down to it, and I want his jaw to _drop_. I want him to be _speachless_, even if it's only for a few seconds, and I'm running out've time to get this done." She caught up to him, grinning wickedly until he caught her by the arm and steered them both over to the wall, shaking his head. 

"I lack the ability to know when you might need me to bring you back to Azys Lla. However, what I can do is return and send Igeyorhm here in my stead so that you might accomplish more with the brief amount of time I can stall the Architect for. He _will_ know you are injured, but I leave the deflection of such questions to you."

She beamed at him, before lunging forward and throwing her arms around his neck. "Ahh! Thank's Ophi!"

Elidibus swallowed hard, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her to return the hug and trying very hard not to _blush_.

* * *

"Architect." 

"Emissary. Have you seen my little Monster?" Emet-Selch had just stepped out of his room, brow furrowed as he cast about for her aether and for that little bit of his own that she kept with her. Both were curiously absent, and the disappearance of both had brought him to abrupt consciousness, and finding Elidibus lingering by the door had him on guard. "Kidnapped her to the moon lately?"

"I have not." A slight smile curled the white-robed Ascian's lips upwards as he internally scrambled for something, anything to stall the other Ascian. He only had to hold out for a few more minutes, considering he could feel the way the elezen was still scrambling for something. "I am sure she will return shortly, however. She mentioned she had some manner of business to attend to."

"Business which hides her from my sight? No. Something is _wrong_-" The Architect blinked as the Emissary opened a rift, internally thankful that the elezen could pulse his own aether and indicate when he was ready and also that he -had-, Urianger stepping out with a small green book tucked under his arm. 

"Emet-Selch." A polite nod was offered to the Ascian, who looked between the two of them and then narrowed his eyes. 

"... Either something truly _is_ horribly wrong, or the two of you are attempting to stall for her." 

"Whatever would make you say that?" Came the mild response from Elidibus, calm and collected and unruffled as a glare was leveled his way. 

"-Please-, I am not an _idiot_. A favoured tactic of hers is to call upon the astrologian whenever she wants privacy but also wishes for me to remain if not _entertained_ then at least comforted by the presence of someone who was Hythlodaeus at one point." The answer was largely flat, before the Architect sighed and rubbed his temples. "That you were waiting to intercept me only confirmed that you are _in_ on whatever she is doing as well. She could have left me a _note_ at least..."

"She did." Urianger tugged a piece of paper from his green book, offering it out. Emet-Selch stared at him for a moment, before accepting the scrap of paper. His eyes flit over the contents, before he heaved a sigh and turned to start heading back into his room. 

"I'm going to _pretend_ that the ink of this is fresh and not more than a year old and accept it as a show of good faith. If she is not back in my arms within two hours, I _will_ go and find her." The doors closed behind him, leaving the two of them in the hall, silent for a long moment until the Emissary cleared his throat quietly. 

"... For all that we had barely ten minutes to prepare, that went surprisingly well. Was that a forgery?" 

"Nay. She did give me a number of notes to pass to the other Scions in the event that she required time to herself." Urianger opened the green book and leafed through to the end, where a number of scraps of paper on a variety of types of stationary lingered. He selected a few at random, and offered them out. They all looked to be hastily written, and each one was signed with some variation of a penis. The ghost of a smile quirked the Emissary's lips upwards, privately glad that her horrible, messy handwriting hadn't changed as he handed them back. "Will her business take her longer than two bells?"

"Quite honestly, I have no idea. I also hesitate to state her business, considering Emet-Selch is known for lurking and eavesdropping subtly. As it seems that I may be required to do this again in future, I defer to your wisdom in such matters." He offered the elezen a polite bow, before straightening and sighing. "... I suppose I should linger, if only to appease the Architect by taking him to her last known location."

Urianger lifted a hand, patting his shoulder gently before turning and making his way down the hall.

* * *

"Jenomis!" She beamed at the playwright, throwing her arms wide and laughing as he caught her hands and spun the two of them into a short little waltz across the carpet. "You sly bastard! How's tricks?"

"Same as they oft are! I see you have a new mask. May I?" The dance came to a halt, and they both bowed formally to one another before he straightened and smiled at her. She grinned, before pressing her fingers to her temples and then pulling it easily free to reveal a slightly strained, almost unnaturally pale face. Handing it over, he ignored her in favour of studying it and blinked. "How does it stay in place?"

"Magic. Man, you would -not- believe who made it for me! It was _Solus zos Galvus!"_

"The Emperor that you wrote to me about? I had wondered, but did not discount the possibility. Your fae friend told me the story, and in return I told her ours." The mask was offered back, and she kept grinning as she tucked it back into place.

"How's the project coming along?" 

"I worked with the notes you gave me, and heavily pulled as much information as I can from history. Once you told me what to look for, while still difficult such was not impossible. I still needs must gather more information about the other lead. Do you have an hour?"

"Jenomis, I just shaved a piece've my soul off. If I don't sit down for an hour I might just fall over anywho. To the lounge!" She snapped a hand up, before turning and wandering off with him in tow, shaking his head.

* * *

Igeyorhm brought her back to Azys Lla, and it was when she was half-way back to their rooms that something tickled across her sensibilities. It was that precursor feeling to something going horribly, terribly _wrong_, before it simply... stopped. And then her pocket was twitching, tugging and the crystal eye lifted out of it, hovered in place before her for a moment, and then vanished. 

Kel'louch stood in it's place, before the body abruptly crumpled. She stared at it, before crouching for a moment to poke the unmoving body before he sat up abruptly and waved her hand away. 

"So. I thought your people didn't teleport?"

"You thought right. We do not. But to be able to defeat something why would we destroy all things related to it?" Brushing himself off, he pushed himself to his feet and looked around. "I will need a location to produce a portal."

"A portal? Seven hells, you're not trying to offload more wizards onto me, are you?" She blinked, pushing out of her crouch and turning, beckoning for him to follow her. 

"You seem like you may need them. It is only a matter of time, however, until they come for the fragment of the hungry primal within our moon." He drifted up almost to the ceiling before he caught himself, adjusting to the abundance of aether. "... Source indeed. The aether here is particularly abundant."

"From what I could tell, Emet-Selch said that the Eighth has a lot too, for a shard." She snickered, and glanced back to watch as he drifted along, folding his hands behind his back. "You look -really- weird with only one eye, y'know."

"-You- look really weird with so much excess _fat_." 

"Oh, you son've a hagfish! Hah, that was good! Compared t'you yeah I guess I'd be _fleshy_, mister bag-o-bones." She stopped for a moment, jaw hanging as he continued to drift along, unconcerned. The Warrior hustled along to catch up, grinning widely. "So what brought this about? Just the fact that they'll probably come for you lot if they manage to take us down?"

"Something like that, Warrior. Or such would be the answer I would give any of _them_. But you... I am a fragment, of someone you used to be, so I will test the waters by saying..." He paused for a moment, only to shake his head. "I am a weapon. A weapon that sits and idles, a hunter with no prey. When I was a youngling, I was... _Fierce_. I was one of the few who deigned to learn martial combat. For thirty years I did nothing but train, the three that came before simply lacking such due to how I could not bear a weapon. For six centuries, I fought the Dark-Touched. For three centuries, I _idled_. I traveled the first century, searching for anything and everything to while away the time, but it was never _enough_. Do you understand?"

The Warrior tilted her head, lifting both hands to tuck them behind her neck and watch the ceiling as she ambled along until finally she nodded. 

"I... Do, actually. Seriously though, that's like... Nine hundred years, right? That's a long time." The doors opened as she approached them, and together they made their way onto the balcony. "This should be an okay spot."

"I could have ceased, you know. I could have Ended myself." Holding his hands out, the crellbron narrowed his eye as a ripple of pale blue manifested in front of him. "But... I never could. I believe such is a flaw, in our very nature." 

"I dunno. I never had that problem. My problem was that it'd never _stick_, and then I stopped trying 'cause what was the point?" She stepped to the side, watching curiously. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Troubling. I am bridging." 

"Bridging?" The Warrior fished, hoping for more information before her expression shifted to one of mild irritation when he simply shrugged.

"Yes. I have to. Otherwise, they cannot find this place." 

"Man you are just... _Shit_ at explaining things aren't you." She sighed, dropping her hands and blinking as the ripple stabilized and then expanded from a single vertical line into an oval. A quiet sound of surprise emerged as two more emaciated figures wrapped to the point of nigh mummification floated out, turned around and held out their hands to support the portal. Kel'louch lowered his own, and drifted to settle beside her, legs slightly bent and arms folded. More crellbron drifted out in pairs, until there were six of them maintaining the portal and the rest filing into the air to drift, silent and motionless save for how their various robes and wraps were caught in invisible eddies. Ten. Twenty. Fourty. The number grew, two hundred strong and counting before one in similar attire to him drifted out, red hair in short curls against his scalp, offering out his crystal eye. It was accepted solemnly, and only when it was tucked solemnly into place did he turn towards her. 

"Lahabrea mentioned that there was a disturbance, but also that you were present Eschaton." The Emissary's voice came from the doorway, and she sheepishly leaned out to wave and then point to Kel'louch, who pivoted in place to survey the white-robed Ascian. Elidibus offered him a polite bow, receiving a grudging nod in return. "Greetings."

"This is Kel'louch. Kel'louch? This is Elidibus. The, ahh. Emissary. Talker guy."

"A Dark-Touched shalt not manage our forces." The words were rasped out from the red-headed individual that had returned the Warmage's eye as he folded his arms. 

"I mean, he's not, but see thing is they're _ridiculously_ smart? 'Least, the red-masked ones are. And of those red-masks, he's one've the _smartest_. I get that you came here to fight Ascians but some've 'em are on our side." The Warrior idly stepped around Kel'louch to put herself between Elidibus and the disgruntled crellbron. "Hey, Kel'louch, they're not... They're not all gunna talk like that, are they?"

"They are. I was always counted as... Odd, for my cadence among other things. Kel'trei, we are as _guests_ in this world they call the Source. If you truly believe that you cannot work with them, then _go home_. I need not the trouble conflict will bring within the ranks. Take your sash and shoo." Kel'louch turned both eyes to the red-headed crellbron, who bared his teeth before turning away. "I thought so. Elidibus, was it?"

"An honour to meet you, the Locksmith." Another polite bow was offered, as Kel'louch shook his head. 

"I care not for sweet words. I will be the go-between for our two factions. Obligatory threat, Dark-touched."

"Obligatory amenable reassurance. Shall we discuss where best to house your forces?" Elidibus turned, lips quirking upwards at the corners and gesturing towards the hallway before Kel'louch nodded once and drifted along. 

"I'll just, uhh... Go and tell Emet-Selch. That we got guests. You got this, Emissary?" The Warrior glanced between them as the white-robed Ascian hummed and nodded a few times. 

"I believe I can handle this. If I have any issues, however, I will doubtless run and hide behind you."

"Good. You kids have fun now." She waved, before climbing onto the railing and starting to scale the outside of the structure. 

Behind her, the cloud of crellbron continued to grow.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mario voice* Here we go!

She dissapeared twice more. Once for four hours, the next for six. He caught her on her way out for the last one, and she held up her hands while avoiding looking at him, smiling sheepishly and telling him to wait for her to whistle for him before Elidibus had caught her by the elbow and pulled her through a rift. He knew he wouldn't rest properly without her, and thus threw himself into the repairs of Azys Lla. There wasn't a whole lot more to do, and so he finished up odds and ends, recalibrated the shields and repurposed one of the teleporters to act as the framework for a semi-permanent portal to the Eighth. He was part-way through refitting one of the engines with a more streamline, less wasteful cylinder when he heard it. 

Her whistle. 

A snap of his fingers had him dressed in clean clothes, and he took a moment to compose his face into a mild sneer (she deserved it, after all) and then reached to bring his vessel to where he could suddenly feel the tiny piece of him she carried. He passed Elidibus on the way by, and ignored the amusement that the other felt before stepping out of the rift, mouth opening before he caught sight of what stood before him. 

And _stared_. 

He recognized the Prima Vista. There was no way he wouldn't. What gave him pause was the fact that there was a cardboard cutout of Hydaelyn and Zodiark being _hoisted_ up into the rafters on the stage, as a handful of actors sat in a circle with scripts in their hands, doing a cold read of something that sounded _very_ familiar. 

"-struck a blow that sundered all of creation. For all of Her good intent, Her will to fight for life, she did strike to preserve the Star, instead of slay it, setting the fragments of Zodiark to hang surrounded and bound by rock to slumber until time immemorial passed-"

"Emet-Selch." The Warrior was tugging on his sleeve, drawing his distracted gaze back to her. "I waited as long as I could, but really, I can't do the descriptions justice. This is Jenomis. I've already got most've it down, but you've a better flare for dramatics than I do." 

"What... What exactly _is_ this that you have called me into the middle of?" He reached to settle a hand on her shoulder, trying to ground himself with her presence as his eyes passed sightlessly over the playwright that was bowing politely. 

"'Just fragments and fleeting memories of an achingly familiar world'. Your words, pretty much exact I think." She stepped closer to wrap an arm around his waist, looking towards the stage as two of the actors flipped pages to catch up, pointing out bits that tied together. "I know, that I don't have any way to really immortalize Amaurot. I can't use aether like that. But... I don't want people to forget, ever again. Not the truth. Not what happened. Jenomis is the best playwright I know of, and if anyone can do it, it'd be him. Those people, they all died for a reason. And they deserve to be _remembered_."

Hades swallowed dryly, turning slightly to finally focus on the playwright she had roped into the job. He was offering out a copy of the script, and the Architect reached to accept it and and size the man up. 

"It would be an honour if a Thespian such as yourself were to look this over and tell me what you think, my Lord." Jenomis ducked his head into another bow, and Emet-Selch finally let his eyes rest down on the title sprawled out across the front cover. There were several, most of them scratched out as another was suggested._ Realm Reborn. The Sundering. Ten and Three. Convocation. Our Story._ A picture of a penis sat in one corner, an idle doodle that was unmistakably hers.

For a moment, a _brief_ moment, he spitefully felt as though the burden of remembering was not _hers_ to take from him, but then he burst out laughing as he thought of a dozen other, small reasons why she must have done this occurred to him. She wanted people to know the truth. She wanted to help educate people on why they were fighting. She wanted to honour the memories of all of those that had fallen in a way that was so truly _Eschaton_ with their living, breathing memory passed word of mouth through the generations. She wanted to give him a way to talk about it, if he wanted, and for all that she was saying that he could help if he wanted, he could tell they were already well on their way to completion and that he didn't _need_ to. There was implied permission to wash his hands of the business. 

She wanted to give him something to do that was close to his heart as he rested and healed. Something that he could create with. Something that he could lounge about eating grapes while working on if he wanted. Something similar to what she had walked into the first time she had asked Urianger to keep him busy, in the library. She wanted him to have a chance to tell his story _properly_. She wanted to give him something to hold on to, when she inevitably aged and died, and something for her next reincarnation to learn their history from. Because, despite the idea that she might be the last one she held onto hope. She wanted-

"Architect?" 

Her voice drew him from his musing, and he heaved a dramatic sigh as he rolled his eyes. "I _suppose_ I can look it over. If nothing else, where your memory has inevitably _failed_ I can fill in the necessary gaps."

She beamed up at him, and pulled him and Jenomis over to some of the theater seats so that they could all sit down and go over it together. It took several bells, during which food and drink was brought over. He was pleasantly surprised at the level of detail, and aside from a few minor tweaks here and there it was a solid three bells worth of engaging material. It touched briefly on the day to day life in Amaurot, forging the connections between the Convocation members and then moved on to the Doom. From there, it branched to the summoning of Zodiark and Hydaelyn. When Jenomis started to ask about what happened after that, he winced as she kicked him under the seats and then asked what Emet-Selch thought about it. 

"Surprisingly accurate," came his reply as he looked towards the stage to give the playwright time to rub his shin and give the Warrior a confused look. The Architect didn't even have to see her to know she was making empathetic 'no' gestures, and slowly started to turn his head back towards them so that she had plenty of time to turn the gesture into a stretch and a yawn. "However there are a few minor things that I would adjust. For example, your representation of Eschaton lacks the dichotomy she carried."

The Warrior coughed slightly, looking away as the playwright perked up. "Oh?"

"She was silent, yet loud. Present, yet absent. Wild, yet tame. She was a force of nature, that swept up all in her path. Not much has changed, quite honestly." Pale gold eyes shifted to where the Warrior was blushing faintly under the mask. 

"Asshat." Reaching over, she stole some of his popcorn and munched contently. "It's not about the Warrior of the Light. It's about the people that gave up pretty much everything to save the world." 

"Yes, and that includes you, little Monster. But I digress. I would like to go over the props and backgrounds, if such might be possible." He directed his not-question towards Jenomis, who pushed himself to his feet and nodded, gesturing towards the stage. 

"This way, please."

* * *

He gave them pointers on some of the sections before freezing. Brows furrowing, he tilted his head slightly and let his aether roll out to search, to catch that tiny little tickle of familiarity. He _knew_ he hadn't been hallucinating. When he turned around to find the Warrior, she was frowning as well, slowly pushing herself to her feet and tilting her head. She met his eye, grimacing and patting the air as if to ask him to stay there as she glanced to the others. 

He grit his teeth, but nodded. Of _course_ she would want him to protect the plebeians. He _would_, but he wouldn't _like_ it, and his attention would be somewhat torn as he kept tabs on her. 

She turned and slipped away, starting to ghost her way through the theater. 

* * *

"Hey." 

The black-robed figure stiffened, before settling into an easy slouch, leaning casually against the railing. The voice had caught him off guard, clearly, and he didn't bother to glance over as a sense of _listening_ filled the air. 

"You want a tissue?" 

Her words caught him off-guard in an entirely different way, and he snapped his head over to see her holding out a handkerchief. She smiled faintly, eyes hidden behind the black that obscured them in the mask as she studied his aether. Hesitating, the sundered Emet-Selch before her heaved a sigh and reluctantly accepted it, using it to dab at the blood that was dripping from his nose. 

"Do you love me?" 

He paused at that, before starting to laugh. There was nothing humours about the sound, and he folded the handkerchief before looking out over the view. "Love you? Love _you__?_ Do you truly have to ask?" 

"I do." She joined him at the railing, elbows resting on the metal bar. "Because even if you're just a piece, I still love you. And I still worry about you. And I still care. Even if you don't feel the same any more." 

"If you truly _loved_ me, little Monster, you would have let me get close enough to _him_. What I want, is to be _whole_ again."

"Is it? I mean, probably partially. There's more to it then that, isn't there. I know, y'know. About how you were able to fight the tempering for so long. I know, that you knew what I was doing, too. You didn't care. You loved me before then, and you knew you'd love me after too. And you _forgave_ me for it." She shifted to jostle him gently with her shoulder. "I can see, y'know. The tiny cage that's got _you_ in it, steeped and saturated and drowning in darkness. I'm not gunna ask if you want to be free of it, 'cause you _don't_. That's how tempering works, and you know that. But I'll ask, do you _love_ me."

He studied her for a long moment, before looking out over the water once more. Blood dripped from his nose, and he sagged slightly as he let the his weight settle again the railing more fully. 

"_No_."

"_Liar._" She smiled, and looped an arm around him, tugging him against her side to take his weight as he sucked in a pained breath, letting it out through his teeth with a hiss. Her other hand came up to turn his face towards her own, and she gently pressed her lips against his. He stiffened, shuddering and letting out a pained sound, reaching up to smooth his fingers through her hair even as her hand settled down over his heart. The kiss deepened, and she swallowed his pained sounds even as she sundered everything that was _Emet-Selch_ out of him. 

She let him go, let him lean against the railing as his head came up to _stare_ at her, panting for breath before she put her lips together and _blew_.

* * *

Emet-Selch was _prepared_. Or, at least, he thought he was. He materialized beside her as she plummeted with his doppelganger in pursuit and felt a chill through him as he noted what, exactly, was going on with their aether. Catching her, he jerked backwards to size up the purely void based _thing_ that was within the vessel shaped like his, and could have laughed when he realized it had no way to connect or attach to him. 

No, the part that would have let it do so was nestled within her own aether, sheltered and compacted. There were only the faintest of wisps of tempering that lingered about it, and he felt a moment of pride when he realized how deftly she had sundered it out of the tempered mass that drew level with them. 

"If I throw you, do you think you can catch the ship, little Monster?"

"A hundred fulms? 'Course. That's easy. Estinien could do it, so 'course I can too. With you throwing me? Not a problem." She shifted in his grasp, leaning to press a kiss against his cheek, and he smirked as he adjusted his hold and then turned, physically lobbing her upwards. He didn't even watch her trajectory, trusting himself as a shield flickered into existence to block the ripple of shadow that reached out for him. 

"Now then. I believe, that I have been given _express_ permission to utterly _destroy_ you, Imposter. You pose no threat to me, now that you cannot _ruin_ me and turn me against her. Any last words?" A snap pulled his staff out of thin air, and he set it to drift beside him even as a lazy gesture upwards to manifest his crown. 

"You are a _traitor_. And I will see you returned to me or destroyed." It was so _odd_, hearing essentially the voice of Elidibus coming from a vessel that looked like him, dark robes and all. At least when Elidibus had possessed it, he had made sure to wear his own mask. But no, this individual was physically a carbon copy of his own work. It was perhaps the closest to an external vessel for Zodiark could get, and lacking anything resembling a _soul_ meant that Emet-Selch didn't even have to do anything. It would disperse on it's own. 

But that would take time, and there were an awful lot of people near by that could get hurt in the meantime. He reinforced his shields, and shot out over the water with the mass of darkness in hot pursuit. 

Above, the Warrior dangled with one curved blade stabbed into the hull of the ship, anchoring her to the underside. The other hand was fishing out a link pearl, which she used to contact the people in the airship above her. 

"Hey! Yeah, can you send a skiff down to the underbelly of the boat? I've got no way to get a grip beyond carving holes in the hull, and I'd really rather not. Emet? Oh, the Architect's out playing with his new toy."

She squinted at the horizon, looking thoughtful and shrugging slightly with the arm that wasn't holding her weight. 

"Naaah. He'll be fiiine. 'Sides this is the fucker that broke into a very special place that he built. I wouldn't deny him this unless my life depended on it."


	82. Chapter 82

He felt they were far enough out that the only things that might be disturbed would be _fish _and abruptly halted, reversing momentum. His doppelganger dropped twenty or so feet under him, getting out of the way until the staff shot down and batted down, impacting and sending his foe splatting against the water. The shade surfaced a moment later, surging upwards and stretching out one hand. Pitch black marbles manifested around him, before expanding rapidly, exploding outwards and bouncing him back and forth through the air until he was able to get free. Barriers holding up nicely, he turned and noted a surge of aether before he shot up out of the way of a beam of aether. 

He _recognized_ that attack. His irritation mounted, and he reached to flick both the staff and crown. Both hummed quietly, synchronizing as a banner unfolded into existence behind his head. 

Everything... Seemed to _slow_. Even if he _shouldn't_ use the ambient aether around to Create, that didn't mean he didn't have his _own_. Reaching out with one hand, he snapped his fingers, the sound resounding outwards as his aether reached out and pulled a platform into being. It rushed upwards, catching the shade and pressing it flat against the patterned surface even as he drifted down to hover above the edge of the circular stage. 

"You... Are going to tell me where you took my _things_. My books. My blueprints. My... Collection." Gesturing outwards with one hand, Emet-Selch let a smirk play across his face as the shade pushed itself up and then looked down at the platform. He could feel the way it tested the edges, watched realization worm it's way through the dark aether before him that it would take more than a brief moment to break through. The Architect's lips partially quirked up in a smirk as he reached up, tucking his mask into place. "And by all means, _please_ do resist." 

The shade gathered itself and turned towards him. 

* * *

"I don't think we should go closer. Anyone got one've those looking-glass things?" The Warrior had one foot on the railing, the other on the floorboards of the skiff that carried her, Jenomis and the pilot. With one hand raised to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun, she was squinting out at what seemed to be a pale purple platform topped by a shimmering dome, within which a veritable lightshow was playing out. A spyglass was tucked against her free hand, and she beamed even as she brought it up and peered through. A few twists of the barrel, and she was nodding. "Y'know, I wonder how many spells are layered into that thing."

"I couldn't say." 

She nodded slowly, still watching the fight. "What about you, Elidibus?"

"Hmm. I wonder..." Jenomis leapt slightly at the voice immediately behind him, and the white-robed figure simply stepped around to stand next to the Warrior as a black-robed Ascian stepped out of a rift near by and drifted down to the slowly circling skiff. "From this distance, I can identify Bind, Lock. Anchor and Brace. Naturally, this is without pointing out the obvious ones that keep it in the air."

"Huh. Fancy. I take it you lot all felt this and came to figure out what was going on?" She lowered the skyglass for a moment, squinting out at the distant floating dome before peering through once more. "... Is that a flag?"

"Warrior? Who... Are these people? Friends of yours?"

"Oh yeah! Jenomis, white hood is Elidibus, black hood is Igeyorhm." A hand was casually waved to indicate both Ascians, who turned slightly and bowed to the playwright before they turned to look back out at the floating dome. "They're not trying to murder everyone, don't worry. Whups, almost forgot. Uhh, Igeyorhm? I, uhh... I might've eaten a bit've Emet-Selch, sort of like I did with the Lightwardens and now have a grip on it. Man this is weird. How do I give him back to himself?" 

"The two of you are Bonded, Eschaton. From what I can tell, even without your grasp that portion would be fine and simply cling to you. When he is done, I am sure he will be able to simply collect that portion from you. It seems as though you are also naturally neutralizing any remnants of Zodiark's tempering that clings to the small portion you recovered." The black hooded Ascian sounded slightly amused, and folded her arms as she slowly shook her head. "Though, your hold is likely for the best, in the event that it tried to tear it away from you."

"Sorry, I completely missed what you said." The Warrior turned to give her an apologetic look, lowering the spyglass as she grimaced. "I'm trying to beat the idea that I just vored part of my husband out of my brain, and then tangented off to 'what about blowjobs? do those count?' and... Yeah, I wasn't paying a lick of attention."

Both Ascians paused. For his part, Elidibus manged to stifle any reactions beyond the way a muscle in his jaw twitched, but Igeyorhm slowly lifted both hands to cover her face. The playwright turned away, trying to master his features as he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a subdued, choked off laugh while the Warrior rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. 

"What. I said I was sorry."

"Eschaton, the moment you change is the moment that I will begin to truly fear for the world." The Emissary, ever diplomatic, kept his tone largely bland even as he politely steepled his fingers. "Igeyorhm. I believe the Architect has things here well in hand. Return to Azys Lla and inform Lahabrea and Kel'louch of what the disturbance the crellbron picked up has revealed itself to be." 

The black-robed Ascian bobbed her head as her shoulders shook, turning and stepping through a rift to leave the four of them on the skiff, each of them trying to focus on their own thoughts as the Warrior continued to watch what she could through the spyglass.

* * *

The platform had begun to dissolve into motes of aether, brilliant amethyst-coloured motes dissipating and dispersing and marking the approach of Emet-Selch who hovered near the skiff before touching down lightly and staggering before Elidibus and the Warrior reached out to catch him. 

"And you called me reckless." The Emissary shook his head slightly, smiling faintly as pale gold eyes were rolled in his general direction. 

"Wait, why was he reckless?" The Warrior glanced between them, giving the banner a cursory glance as it folded away into nothingness. The crown was next to go, spinning idly as it faded from view. "Does this have to do with his flag-thingy?"

"-Please-, Elidibus, I _may_ have overexerted myself but I am _hardly_ spent. I learned where my blueprints are being held." The Architect reached to grasp the staff of pale purple crystal, tapping it twice and sending it back to wherever he pulled it from before moving to sit down on a bench. "I am simply... _tired_." 

"Right. Where'm I going then?" She flexed her fingers, grinning as he glanced up at her and quirked a brow. "What. While you rest, your kick-ass wife is gunna go and beat some people up. It beasts the circle my thinking's going in." 

"As enjoyable as such would be to watch, the last place I would wish to send you is the moon of the Thirteenth. Emissary, you seem to have recovered nicely. I would recommend taking Lahabrea with you while I maintain the defenses at Azys Lla with Igeyorhm and spend some time with my wife and a small handful of other projects." Emet-Selch waved a hand idly, before covering his mouth as he yawned widely. "... Not that I expect to do much other than laze around and recover. As enjoyable as that fight was, 'tis admittedly something ill advised when one considers the potential for future fights." 

"If such is the wish of Eschaton..." Turning to glance at the rogue, Elidibus tilted his head slightly and then nodded as she shrugged. 

"I mean, if I'm not fighting I'm gunna pamper the ever-living -shit- out of the Architect, so... Oh yeah! I thought up an answer." She beamed at the Emissary, and tucked her hands behind her head, continuing on before he could do more than raise a hand to try and stop her. "Only if it's deep throating, technically!"

"... Do... I want to know?" Emet-Selch stared at her for a long moment before looking over the Emissary who simply sighed tiredly and pulled a rift open.

"I am leaving now." 

Puzzled, the Architect looked towards Jenomis who simply turned and made for the pilot to tell him to return to the Prima Vista as the Warrior laughed. 

"Well, you see..."

* * *

One tired rift later and a bit of a hike where she carried his vessel from the designated portal-point to his rooms, and they were home. Or at least what acted as such for the time being. She glanced around and counted the vessels, trying to find a spot to put the one she was hauling around. Beanbag chair had one, so did the armchair. Another was stretched out on the couch, hand behind his head and a book settled onto his chest.

That left the bed, really. Somehow, she didn't have a problem with that. He didn't protest when she stripped him down to his pants, simply shifting or rolling obligingly, and she had to stifle a laugh as her attempt to escape simply earned her a lanky arm around the waist as he hauled her down next to him. 

"Hades, you know I don't do the staying still thing very well. I'm not tired yet. Which, reminds me. You got that piece back, does that... I dunno, do you feel any better for it?"

"Barely noticed it." came the tired reply, and she shifted to press a gentle kiss to his brow before he reluctantly let her go. 

"Don't worry, I won't leave Azys Lla. Probably won't leave the rooms 'less I get it in my head to go and bother Kel'louch. Which... He's not the most talkative person, so that's only gunna happen if I get desperately bored." She flashed him a grin, stuffing a pillow into his grasp and dragging the sheets over him to tuck the grumbling Ascian in. That done, she wandered out through the living room and then into the kitchen. Puffing out her cheeks, she surveyed what was there, and then pointed a metal carafe with a spout.

"Okay. I can do this. Most of you lot work on your own, right? Right. Cid talks to Magitek, and if he can get it to behave, I can get you to work. You... You make _coffee_ but I heard, from Mitron, that you can make _hot chocolate_ too. Did I hear right?" 

The percolator made no motion to response. She advanced and sized it up, before reaching out to idly prod it. Her reflection stared back at her, slightly distorted. 

"... So. If I just... Do I gotta load you with something, like Thancred does his gunblade thing?" The Warrior reached out, turning it this way and that as she tried to remember how Hades had used it. He had... He had pressed a button. She knew that for a fact. Eye twitching beneath her mask, she shifted to tuck a linkpearl into her ear. "Help?"

Nero's voice answered her, sounding mildly curious at the utterly lost tone of her voice. 

_"The Warrior of Light? How did you- Oh. I suppose this **is**_ _ Garlond's after all."_

"Nero, did you steal his linkpearl." She perked up. A Garlean scientist was a Garlean scientist, after all.

_"Fair payment for services rendered."_

"Well, I mean hey maybe you might be able to help me." The Warrior grinned at his smug answer, before idly turning the metal carafe. "It's gotta do with ancient technology."

_"Well, found something new then?"_

"Sort of? I've seen them in Garlemald. Like a... Like a metal kettle, except taller and skinnier, with an orange button that's uneven. It's got a little line on the bit sticking out and a little circle on the side flush with the black round bottom bit. I've seen it make coffee and I've been told it can make hot chocolate too. There's a... A thin black rope that goes to the wall." 

Nero was silent for a moment, before he sighed. 

_"Sounds like a boilmaster. Pick it up and shake it gently. Does it slosh?"_

She blinked, before carefully picking it up, shaking it and setting it down. "Doesn't sound like it."

_"I'm going to hazard a guess that you have found a kitchen of some kind. Is there a faucet?"_

"There is, few feet away. The rope's not long enough."

_"The metal part should come off of the base. That would be the black part. Take it by the handle, and lift straight up."_

The Warrior ohhh'd softly and did so, humming as she peered at it. 

_"Did it?"_

"Yeah!" She beamed, looking at the two pieces.

_"Take it to the faucet and fill it with water. You should be able to, while holding it by the handle, press your thumb against the back part and push it down. The top will lift at the front, near the spout. Once you've done this, set it back on the base the way it was before, and then press the rocker switch to turn it on. The orange one._"

"Right." The Warrior made her way over to the sink and filled the metal carafe once she managed to open the lid, and then went back to set it atop the base the way it had been before. That done, she idly poked the orange spot. And then poked it again. "... Nero... Nero did I break it? It... It's not doing anything."

_"Did the rocker switch light up?"_

"Nnnooo?" Her tone drew a sigh from the Garlean she was speaking with. 

_"Press the line part of the rocker switch. It should click, flip to that side and then glow orange."_

She did, jumping slightly as it clicked and felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand on end as it gurgled quietly. "It's... It's making noise."

_"Good. Congratulations savage, you managed to turn on a magitek kettle. When it starts to steam, hit the circle. It will click. Pour the hot water into whatever cup you're using and then add whatever it is you want." _

The Warrior's eyes widened, and her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. 

"... -Anything-?"

_"... Why am I suddenly filled with a sense of regret?"_


	83. Smile

They had worked together for a bit. When he looked at her, she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking, and they shared a nod. Together, they turned and started to run out across the span, rushing towards the airship. She could feel the way a target lined up on her back, unthinkingly shifting to get out of the way before it abruptly vanished with the shout of "Look out!" 

The Warrior skid to a stop, turning to look back as Haurchefant caught the spear of light with his shield. One step towards him, and it was cracking. Another, as she gathered her self to bolt, and it went through him. A third, and she was sliding on her knees to catch him before he hit the ground. Wide-eyed, she tracked the trajectory back in time to see a dark-armored figure ripple, white armor visible in the glint of the setting sun. 

She crystallized the moment, the view, imprinting it into her memory and _clinging tight_ to the image of the face of the man on the roof. She would _remember_ him. She would _find_ _him_ and she would _bleed him_-

"You... you are unharmed? F-Forgive me... I could not bear the thought of... of..." The words came through a throat choked with blood, and she dropped her gaze from the retreating airship stare down at him through the holes in the mask. One of his hands came up, drawing the mask to the side to reveal part of her expression. Jaw clenched, part of her upper lip twitching as she fought down a snarl, eyes unblinking as they focused on him. He smiled at her, shaking his head gently. 

"Oh, do not look at me so." A high note of disbelief emerged from her as her face smoothed into something more shocked and less feral, and he coughed slightly as Aymeric helped to support him. Her nostrils flared as she registered the proximity of Estinien and Lucia, and she let the Lord Commander take the dying knight as he let the mask fall back into place. "A smile better suites a hero." 

Hero. 

_Hero._

There was nothing _heroic_ about her. He _smiled_ at her, before his eyes closed. She slowly drew herself up, turned, and walked away as her mind whirled and spun in a mad dance with the _possibilities_. 

She could separate the man with the two handed sword from the rest of the pack, run him into the ground. Take him out first. OH, but what about the _others_ that he was with? Certainly, if they died _before_ him, that might sink him into the depths of despair and rage. If she left him alive, too, that might- hmm, but then that ran the problem of giving him something that Haurchefant didn't have. No, no, he just_ had_ to die. 

Like the Unicorn Knight had. 

_(It should have been her.)_

Her steps led her to the Fortemps manner, and she pushed her way in so that she could stand silently by the Count. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. It took a moment, but he drew in a breath and spoke softly through the silence. 

"A knight lives to serve. To protect. To sacrifice. There is no greater calling. Leave me to mourn, and give chase. For my son. For the nation he loved. Go."

She drew one blade and held out her arm. A gentle sliding motion rocked it across the back of her forearm, and she stood there for a moment that was marked only by the quiet drip of blood before she turned and stalked out. Sheathing the blade as she reached the door, she pushed it open and left tot he quiet sounds of Alphinaud speaking and a grown man finally letting himself grieve.

* * *

Urianger must have rushed to get there, because he wasn't dressed for the weather and the airship that brought him to Ishgard brought him level with the rooftops and let him off without ever touching down. A private charter, she thought to herself, even as she vacated her spot and shifted away. Estinien watched her from afar, and it took a few moments to realize he was corralling her back to the Sharlayan elezen that was very _very_ carefully picking his way across the shingles.

She could always fight them. 

_(No. They are **friends**.)_

The Warrior hiccoughed and sat down on the peek of a roof, bitter and bristling as Estinien watched her from afar and Urianger made the slow, careful climb up. Settling on the peak a good ten fulms away, he wordlessly drew out a small blue book, set a few motes of fire to drift around him and keep him warm, and began to idly read. There were no words. He just... Was there. She finished her bottle, set it on the edge of the roof and watched as it rolled down to smash against the street. 

He moved a little closer, brushing snow away so that he didn't sit and melt it into his robes. 

She pulled one flask out, uncorked it and took a swig. It burned going down, but she barely felt it as she watched people on the street scurry about, cleaning up the mess. 

_Why was everyone always cleaning up **her** messes?_

The whole thing was her fault-

Urianger scooted juuust a little bit closer, and she bared her teeth at him under the mask on her face. He didn't look up, instead waving a hand to produce more motes of fire to try and keep his sandal-clad feet warm as he silently read. She _knew_ what he was doing. She _knew_ and... She dropped her head to one hand, letting out a quiet note of hysteric laughter. It didn't matter anyways. She had been adopted into a house, been given a _family_ and had _failed_ them. Their Unicorn Knight was dead. It should have been her. If it had been, then he would still be alive, and-

... And they didn't know if _she_ would come back from the dead like she used to, not with her vaunted 'blessing' in pieces. 

It should have been her. _It should have been her._

She snapped her gaze back to where Urianger now sat a few feet away, staring at the bottle of brandy that he was wordlessly holding out to her. She swallowed slowly, drew in a shaky breath before reaching out to accept it. Together, they sat in silence. Together, they watched the sun set. She helped him down from the roof, and he followed her until she reached the training dummies in the Fortemps yard and started tearing them asunder. There was nothing hyur-like about the sounds that tore themselves from her throat, and when Alphinaud found her he found her alone in the middle of a bunch of kindling. 

"I have our next lead, Hero."

His voice was quiet, strained, and she turned to him and nodded. 

* * *

When she finally, _finally_ made her way to the chamber that Thordan and his Knights were waiting, her gait was smooth. She watched as her prey drifted into the air, shouting about the heaven's ward, and beneath her mask, she _smiled_. She was alone, having broken off from the others. Things would be _different_. She could feel the way her Blessing hummed beneath her skin, restored in full by the encounter with Tiamat. 

She drew both swords as they began to charge, and _giggled_. 

The Warrior had never bothered to learn their names. Except for Thordan and Ser Zephirin, the former because he was loosely related to Aymeric and the latter because of the _wrath_ that had warmed her from within. There were weapons arrayed against her, and she would _cut them down_. 

She met their charge with her own, grip on her wicked black blades reversed as she went. Thirty fulms, fifteen fulms, _five_ and she bolted, hanging a hard left. She lowered her shoulder and hit their healer with the force of _Titan_, leveling him before brutally dragging one blade across his throat. It wasn't _deep_ enough, she idly mused, even as she rolled to the side to avoid the incoming axe. They were forming up around their wounded comrade, and that was _fine_. If she couldn't go through them, after all, she had more than enough practice with going over. 

A pair of spears came for her, and she got her feet under her in time to throw herself to the side and into another roll, springing up and leaping up to get over the next sweeping cleave of an axe. There, two with shields. And there, one caster left open. She cut deep enough that time, the first blade rending in an upwards slice through the armor that the second blade followed, dipping deeper, curving and finding the heart. One down, eleven to go.

Pain painted the floor around her in oranges, and she gathered herself and bolted, diving out of the way of the cleaving swing by that nasty two-handed sword that the self-proclaimed God-King carried. She was close enough that she could bolt once more, leaping to clear a defensively braced shield and tucking to flip over the paladin before both blades came out and cleaved downwards with the added force of her rotation. The rending sound as she tore through metal brought a smile to her face, and as she landed she brought both blades back up to drop their healer. 

"That's _two_. Ser Zephirin, are you _fond_ of these folks?" She turned and brought one blade up, parrying and then bringing the second one across to shear the tip of a sword off, skipping backwards as the paladin recoiled. She reversed her momentum, bolting forward and dropping into a slide. As she passed between her latest dance partners feet, she twisted and hacked, hamstringing him before popping up to drag one blade across his throat. As he fell, she tapped the bloodied flat of the blade against the side of her mask, and tilted her head as she studied the circle of weapons aimed at her. The rest of them had closed in on her, and she threw back her head and _laughed_. 

"You, all've you, are so thoroughly _fucked_ right now, and you can't even _tell_. D'you even know why I'm doing this?" A spear prodded towards her and lost the tip as she lopped it off, throwing her hips to the side as another stabbed in. She twisted out of the way of an axe and _coiled_, legs pulled tight beneath her before she surged forward and slammed into the remaining shieldbearer. He was strong. He contested her for a moment, and a prickle of pain-to-come tickled through her. 

_A smile better suites a hero._

She _grinned_, and the paladin grunted as she reversed her momentum and broke into a spin. He staggered forwards, and the Warrior took advantage of the gap he had left in the circle and the way the others were adjusting, trying not to hit their companion to rake one blade up his back and another across the arm of the next closest knight. He staggered back, and she left him so that she could get a head of the spears and greatsword that she could feel coming for her as they shouted.

"I'll tell you what, it's not for _Ishgard_." A spin had her out of the path of a lance of aether, and she almost lazily threw her arms wide, an invitation to join her in her dance as she navigated the paths of _pain_ that were laid out before her. "It's not for Aymeric either! Not quite. Not _really_. When Ser Zephirin struck down the son of the family that _adopted_ me, despite my differences? That invited me into their home, even knowing what they knew of me? _That_ was when your lives became _forefit_." 

Bolts of aether rained down around her, and she skipped through the gaps with all the ease of a small child in a field of flowers. One landed particularly close, and she used the flash of it to cover the way she bolted, getting part of the way across the chamber and leaping to bare both curved blades like snake fangs. They sank into a set of armor, just above the collarbones of a knight and he went down with a gurgle. She went through the rest of them, one at a time, until only Thordan and Ser Zephirin were left. They both eyed her warily, keeping her at bay with a mix of ranged strikes and the superior reach of Thordan's sword. 

She thought he called out to it once, but she ignored it. Instead, she weighed her options. She could _rush_ them, but the last time she had done that, his sword had come perilously close to catching her. For all that her blessing thrummed through her, the Warrior did _not_ like the way it had _eaten_ an Ascian. And so she paced, she watched, and she studied the patterns of orange as they were painted out across the ground. 

Nothing for it, then. 

_"Oh, do not look at me so."_

"I'm not a hero."

_"F-Forgive me..."_

"I tried. I tried to do this without getting hurt. I tried to do it _your_ way, Haurchefant."

_"I could not bear the thought of... of..."_

The Warrior gathered herself, and surged forward. Pain immediately flashed across the ground before her, a javelin of light launching forward. It caught her as Thordan began his swing, the heavy blade whooshing through the air as the javelin struck true and went _through_ her. She dropped, tumbling and rolling under the greatsword as it came across, and she came to a halt in a tangle of limbs. 

An odd double pulse filled the air, and she grasped the memory of his _smile_, hoarded it close to her heart with the words of a grieving father. She used them as fuel to claw her way out of the darkness, out of unconsciousness and threw herself into a roll as the two-handed sword of Ser Zephirin came down where her neck had been. Both blades were in her hands, gathered when she had moved and she _smiled_ at him under her mask, deliberately turning away from his startled form. 

Thordan's blade came back around as the last Knight dove backwards to get out of the way, and she hopped and brought both of her blades against the metal even as she hopped, soaking some of the force behind it so that she could curl and get her feet against it. He seemed to look for ehr for a moment until his head came up to see her running along the blade, gathering herself to bolt and close the distance. Aether crackled, the build of it making the hair on her arms stand on end before he staggered, abruptly dropping the blade as if it had _hurt_ him. 

She was too close, already atop his arm, his shoulder, spinning and putting both blades together to let the added torque shear through his armor and neck alike before she was atop the other shoulder and leaping, dropping to the ground. 

God-King Thordan dropped heavily, and when his torso hit the ground, the head rolled free. Like all the others that had been slain, he dissolved into motes of light, and the Warrior turned to survey Ser Zephirin as the aether cleared away. Walking towards him, she tapped the flat of one blade against her shoulder, the other hanging idly at her side. 

"Twelve down. One to go. Tell me, how do you _feel_, after watching your God-King fall?" 

The remaining Knight grit his teeth, sword at the ready as she came to stop a short distance away, head tilting as if she found him particularly intriguing. 

"What... What _are_ you, that you can stand against the power of the Eye and a thousand years of prayer? I struck you square! The hole in your shirt only gives proof!"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Her tone was idle, and she slowly lowered her offhand blade from her shoulder, straightening her head and squaring her shoulders. "I am the Beginning, for I am the spark that gives rise to revolution. And I am the End, for countless are the lives that have stained my hands. I have _judged_ you and found you _wanting_, little maggot. You killed my _brother_." 

The Warrior stepped forward, and he swing with the blade, catching only air and stiffening as she came back up and cut through the gorget that protected his throat. Her off-hand blade scraped against the underside of his return strike, pushing it upwards only for her to straighten and drive it up under his chin, through his lower jaw. The vicious, curved, wide blade continued up through the roof of his mouth and punched up into his brain. 

She watched as he twitched, pushing her mask out of the way to get a better view, and when he burst into harmless motes of aether around the blade, she _smiled._


	84. Hot Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy Emet Love  
For VD in Discord  
Takes place while in Garlemald, between WoL getting whumped and whumping Zenos

It was _cold_ in Garlemald.

The Warrior could see why Emet-Selch would need to layer up, when she considered the climate, and she was briefly reminded of the time he had taken her to see the aurora borealis. Which, admittedly, she still stumbled over saying. He had walked her through it a few times but she generally settled on just calling them 'sky lights' if only to get him to grumble and mutter about ceiling windows. 

Twelve, but she was in love with the man. Even when he threw his hands up in the air and stalked off through the snow, leaving her snickering and turning to dash away while he sought to proverbially cool his heels. Oh, he would still _watch_ her while disgruntled, but rare would be the time that she would ever let that bother her. Anyone else, save for possibly the Exarch would end up stabbed, but him? 

No. Not him. They both liked to watch and he was possessive. She hadn't yet admitted it out loud, but one of her favourite things that he did was to come up behind her, drape himself over her and wrap his arms around her so that he could tuck his face in against the side of her neck. It made a comfortable sort of static tingle up her spine and across the soft space between her hips and her ribs. 

Still, she couldn't let him wallow forever. This was _Garlemald_, and while Zenos had ordered people to stop trying to attack and/or arrest her, some people still took issue with the Hero of Eorzea. She couldn't blame them, but the presence of 'Solus' was generally enough to keep people at a distance. besides, what kind of whatever-they-were-to-each-other would she be if she let him be unhappy for even a moment longer than she had to? 

She had a _plan_. She had an incredible ability to climb, and even with her fingers exposed to the cold her time in Ishgard had taught her a number of things about snowy climates. Ice was fun. Ice on rooftops, _exciting_ but less fun. The Warrior picked her way across the closest roof, idly waving at one of the guards on a nearby balcony as she approached and took a running jump to catch the bars next to them. Hauling herself up, she swung herself over and then brushed herself off. 

"Hey there."

The guard didn't seem to know what to do about that, clutching their gun - _her_ gun, the Warrior realized - to her chest. She held up her hands, holding them a way from her swords and smiled for a moment. Clearing her throat, she kept her voice gentle. 

"At ease. It's alright. I'm not gunna hurt you. Just got a question, yeah? I'm better with the outsides of the buildings than the insides, but how do I get to a kitchen from here?" 

"... K... Kitchen?" The guard's eyes were as wide as saucers under the helm, and she had pressed herself back against the wall, voice squeaking slightly. 

"Yeah." She held her easy smile, waiting patiently and bringing her hands to her mouth to idly puff on her fingers to warm them a bit. 

"... D... Down the stairs. Go to the right. Cross... Cross two halls, and then... And then keep left?"

"Thank's, yeah?" The Warrior perked up, smile growing into a grin. She left the guard there, ambling through the door as it opened and meandering her way to the stairs and parking her rump on the railing, sliding down and landing on her feet. Two guards snapped to attention as she did, and she waved at them as they watched her. 

It was easy enough to follow the directions, especially when she started to be able to _smell_ whatever was cooking. There was garlic. There was Meat. Her stomach rumbled quietly as she followed her nose from the second intersection of the hallways and paused at the door to take in the scene. 

Four chefs, bustling about and chattering at each other. One of the noticed her first, and almost dropped the knife they held, before the others picked up on his distress. She raised her hands as they gaped at her. 

"Heya. Don't worry, I'm not gunna be in the way for very long. I just came to ask if I could scrub some supper pots in exchange for a few things now." 

The four of them stared at her, before huddling to converse. One of them idly reached out to stir a pot on a stove, before another nodded and slowly approached her. 

"What... Do you need?"

She _smiled_. 

* * *

They already had a version, but the measurements were _all wrong_. Even _she_ knew better than what they were doing. The chef working with her had told her that it was due to a lack of resources and they both got together to write a letter. It was a call for specific supplies and for the beginnings of what she hoped would turn out to be a fantastic necklace. Of course, she would have to wait until she had beaten Zenos into the ground to be able to have it delivered to Aymeric, but in the mean time...

She ambled back to the guard that had given her directions, poured her a mug and pushed it into her hands before stuffing the thermos down her shirt and climbing to the roof. From there, it was a quick jaunt to the garden that Zenos had thrashed her at and then a careful climb down to find the Ascian dozing with his coat pulled closed, face tucked into the fur and sheltered from any wind or wayward snow in the small courtyard by the roots of the tree. 

The Warrior took a moment to study him, feeling the corners of her lips quirking upwards as she studied him. 

Where once dark rings lingered about his eyes, now there was only the vaguest suggestion of such. He was approaching _well rested_, she surmised, and drew in a deep breath only to let it out slowly, fishing the thermos out of her coat. She realized why his hair was cut the way it was as she watched him. The ends met the fur and mixed just enough to keep his neck warm without getting caught on anything. 

His brows furrowed faintly, and winter gold eyes cracked open as she approached and settled into a crouch nearby. 

"Oh. It's _you._"

"Oh Grand Archtect Emet-Selch, I bring you this mightiest of gifts. From lands far beyond the borders of Mighty Garlemald has this secret, infamous recipe traveled only to enter the inner circle of your very, uhh... Illustrious kitchens!" She shifted back a little bot, offering the thermos out with both hands and dramatically settling on one knee, bowing low. 

"... Did you just use up very nearly every single large word you know that might bear similar meaning to 'impressive' in the space of a single breath? You used 'might' twice." His tone was dry, though he studied the thermos with narrowed eyes before sighing and unfolding his arms. Reaching out, he accepted the thermos and removed the first layer of the lid before unscrewing the cap and taking a sniff. And then pausing, only to take another. "... Hot chocolate?" 

"I brought marshmallows." The Warrior grinned at him as she pulled a pilfered bag of them from up her sleeve. "Sorry they're sort've squished."

"You _stole_ marshmallows from my own kitchens. Will wonders never _cease_." An amused lilt coloured his voice, and he sighed before brushing snow away from the ground next to him and patting it. She beamed, before pouting as she spotted the cushion he was using. 

"I don't get to share the cushion?"

"'Tis _my_ cushion. I remain as of yet still quite _cross_ with you. Say the words, and I may agree to _share_." He went to start pouring some of the steaming hot chocolate into the lid only for her to yelp and reach forward to stop him. 

"You gotta swish it around a bit first! Otherwise it all settles in the bottom." 

Pale gold eyes rolled, and he did so before resuming as the Warrior carefully tore open the bag and carefully added a layer of small marshmallows to it before she settled in next to him and leaned against his side. Popping one of them into her mouth, she smiled and sighed as he idly looped an arm around her shoulders, quietly sipping the offered drink. 

"... Well now. I find myself pleasantly surprised." 

"Aaancient Ishgard recipe. Veeery rare. Use yak milk and kukuru powder for beeest result. Here? Raaare thing. But! I am having some." She squinted at him, crooning as she spoke and lifting a finger only for him to grimace, corners of his lips pulling down as he pursed his lips. 

"I should very well thank to never _ever_ sound like that, ever again." 

"Alright, alright. Once I bet Zenos proper-like, I'm planning on trying to convince Aymeric to smuggle some proper kukuru powder into Garlemald for these poor souls. Do you like it?" She nudged him gently with an elbow, and he huffed in response.

"Certainly _smoother_ than the standard fare." Emet-selch spared himself from having to respond further by taking another sip, though she leaned forward so that he could see how she had jutted out her lower lip and the way it quivered, eyes wide and imploring beneath the mask. "Oh very well. Bribe accepted, little Monster." 

The Warrior beamed, shifting so that she could press a kiss against his cheek. She settled back against the tree, humming. 

"Auror boore-aliz?"

"Au-ro-ra. Bore-re-alice."

"Awrawraw borawraw?"

A pained sound emerged from the Ascian as he cringed, and she laughed as she leaned back in to nose along his ear gently. 

"_Aurora Borealis. _Don't worry, Hades. I won't torture you by saying it wrong again."

He tutted softly, pouting and tucking her more firmly against his side as she snuggled against him. 

"__Thank your Twelve for small mercies."


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHH  
Thank you, all of you for reading, commenting and kudosing the fic!   
With this chapter, we've broken 300k words I think!   
I think I'm going to take a break to write some smut or fluff or mix of the two to celebrate 300k words : D

Halmarut looked up from his book as the door to his quarters opened, revealing an unusually collected Eschaton who cleared her throat. It was the first sign that something was _wrong_, and he straightened subtly as she lifted a hand to scrub at her face. The second was that studying her aether for any clues or signs of distress revealed little and less.

"Halmarut."

"Eschaton. Is this an emergency?"

"Ye-es? Emet-Selch is sleeping, and, uhh... I'm trying really hard not to wake him? So I'm trying to keep a tight grip on my emotions. But... Something sort've happened. And I need your help." She clasped her hands behind her back idly. "It's, uhh... Sort've on par with- D'you remember the planty accident? Where they all got up and walked away?" 

"And it took us both an age to find them all?" A brow was quirked behind the Weavers mask, and he slowly closed the book as he pushed himself carefully to his feet. "Oh dear. Show me."

"You gotta promise to be careful. Archi's a deep sleeper, but I don't wanna risk it." She ambled closer, offering him a tight smile as she offered her arm to help support him. He took it, nodding and they made their way through the halls. The door to Emet-Selch's quarters opened, revealing the various vessels sprawled out and resting peacefully, and ever so subtly did the two of them make their quiet way over to the door that led to the kitchen. She eased it open for him, and gave him a pained smile as he stepped through to survey what the potential damage was. 

The Warrior closed the door behind her, and cleared her throat quietly. "I've no idea how he didn't hear -any- of this, for the record."

Halmarut _stared_, and mumbled something about a ward across the door, taken aback by the carnage and trying to keep any distress internalized and his aether largely still. 

There was a blender that was overturned, a mess of greyish slop oozing out and dripping down from the ceiling. A row of mugs lined the floor, each one seeming to be filled with a different mix of liquids he wasn't certain he wanted to identify. The refrigerator stood open, largely empty save for a single pristine pitcher of water. An empty egg carton with various empty, broken shells sat overturned on the floor by the oven, which had two large pots of _something_ while a frying pan smoked slightly. 

A number of what could have loosely been described as sandwiches stood on plates, scattered about the table and counter. The microwave, the newest addition that had been manufactured post the arrival of the untempered Ascians quietly beeped in the background, whatever food it had been tasked with reheating neglected and forgotten. The lid to the garbage was slightly askew, and one of the cutting boards had been propped up to act as an impromptu target for the throwing knives that were scattered about it. The Weaver turned slightly to stare at her, and she maintained a pained smile. 

"Help."

"How... Did any of this happen?"

"Okay, so I wanted to make some hot chocolate. But I couldn't find any powder for it? And I asked Nero to help me figure out how to boil the water with the boilmaster, and he did, but then he started asking about _other_ things in the kitchen, so I was describing them and he wanted to know how they worked, and next thing we knew it'd been four hours and I'd run out of things to try. Aaand then I looked around and, uhh..." The Warrior cleared her throat, doing a fairly good job at keeping her nervousness subdued despite the way she was starting to sweat. 

The Weaver nodded slowly. He didn't know who this 'Nero' was, but he could hazard a guess as to what the Architect's reaction would be should he see the state of his kitchen. Reaching up to idly stroke through his beard, he made his way carefully to one of the chairs and gently shifted the three plates of 'sandwiches' carefully to the edge of the table, sitting down. 

"I think... That there is a very valuable lesson to be had here. Do as I tell you, however, and - if he continues to slumber - you may make it out of this." 

Eschaton skittered over to throw her arms around him in a hug, a little bit of utter relief cracking through her control. 

"Oh thank the Twelve, I thought I was a _dead_ person walking."

* * *

There was someone in his rooms. 

There was someone who wasn't the _Warrior_ in his rooms. 

Emet-Selch slowly roused himself, and found himself under a great deal of scrutiny which was a red flag in and of itself, even as he came to understand that it was the Weaver that was in such close proximity to him. A pair of gold eyes opened on the couch, and Emet-Selch started to push himself up before pausing as Halmarut's aether pulsed with _patience_ and _amusement_. There was a curl to it, a bid for subtly, and so when the Architect crept to the door to the kitchen and ever so slowly teased it open a fraction of an ilm to peer through, he managed to keep his initial reactions to himself. 

The smell of something _burnt_ was the first to hit him. The sound of her voice as she idly chatted with the Weaver and hung from one of the cupboards while scrubbing something from the ceiling was the second. The rest of the kitchen was the _third_. 

"-then Nero said that the boilmaster was loaded with salt water, not fresh water, which made the coffee just -_ass_\- from what he said. 'Course, at the time I could tell he was partially lying. I mean, yeah, sure he wasn't about the salt water bit? But there was more to it, y'know?" She finished with the ceiling, carefully clambering down to the counter and closing the cupboard she had anchored herself to.

"There always is. Now that you have the worst of it cleaned up, I believe the dishes are dry enough to go back into the shelves. Do you remember where you got them from?"

"Uhh... I think so." Pointing to the cupboards, the Warrior squinted. "Cups there, divided by mugs on the bottom, glass on the shelf above. To the right, plates in order of biggest on the bottom to smallest on top, bowls the shelf above. He's loads better than me at organizing things, that's for sure."

"He is the Architect." Halmarut sipped his coffee, sighing softly. "Well, if nothing else you can take from this entire experience that liquid dish soap is not edible."

"I thought it was colourful syrup! You're never gunna let me live that down, are you." She pouted, shoulders hunching as she made her way to the open dishwasher and started to unload it, stacking plates and balancing them on one hand so that she could amble them all over to the cupboard at the same time. "Nero didn't know what it was either, I'll have you know, and he's a _scientist_."

"How did you describe it to him?" The Weaver leaned back in his chair, and Emet-Selch could feel the amusement and silent plea for forgiveness from the sundered Ascian as he continued to lurk and watch, wondering just how many of his dishes she had managed to use. A pained expression crossed his vessels face as he shifted and noted the stacked dishes that were piled high in the double sink, surmising that the answer was _almost all of them._

"Uhh... Colourful syrup that tasted like carrots, sort've." She made a face as she ambled back to the dishwasher and started to unload the mugs. "Oh! And that it made cool bubbles."

"That it was under the sink should have been your first guess. Did you sample anything else?"

"Tingly amber stuff? It made my nose tingle like it was really -really- potent booze. -That- stuff didn't like me though, and I chucked it back up pretty quick-like. Though, I mean I would've probably been okay if not for that clear stuff. Seven hells but that tasted _foul._" More dishes were put away, before she started to reload the dishwasher, carefully tucking things in so that they had room for water to get between them. 

"White bottle, blue label?"

"Yeah! That's the stuff." 

_Bleach_. The Architect felt mildly sick. His wife had sampled the cleaning products and found the _bleach_. And the dish soap. And the floor cleaner. And probably everything else. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, and leaned against the door frame as he lifted a hand to his face, stifling a quiet sound of distress.

"So anyways, any idea if I accidentally broke anything?"

"Did you put anything metal in the microwave?" Halmarut was gentle with his question, and idly raised his mug. "We already know that both the kettle, stove and blender are fine."

"I don't... think I did?" Her face scrunched up under her mask as she squirted some dish soap into the tray, closed it and then closed the door. A brief moment of counting the buttons to make sure she was using the right ones ensued before she turned to face the appliance he was asking her about, looking thoughtful.

"Did anything spark inside it?"

"Nah, I'd remember that. Say, d'you feel up to taking me to a town or something real quick so I can replace what I used? I made the mess, it's only fair I replace what was used in the process too." She turned towards the Weaver, tilting her head as he thought about it. 

"I -could-. Before that, though, what are you going to say to the Architect about this?" A hand was idly waved to encompass the now remarkably clean kitchen, and she physically cringed even as her aether shifted ever so slightly. 

"... I should probably mention it to him. It's not like he's _not_ going to notice. But I also wanna make sure he sees it's all cleaned up before he panics, this way he can only be mad at me, not mad and sullen that he has to clean up. It was my mess, yeah? So 'course I've gotta clean it up. And he's gotta get his rest, and stress like this isn't good for resting." She rubbed the back of her head, with a sigh. "... Probably the truth, y'know. That I got bored. That I tried to make something to drink. That I got sidetracked with Nero and then got carried away." 

Emet-Selch reached as if to push the door open the rest of the way, and hesitated as he studied her. She looked sheepish, knew what she had done wrong and was trying to make it right. Sure, it was his _things_ she had used, but... What was hers, was his. What was his, was hers. He couldn't exactly _blame_ her for trying to keep herself occupied, and nothing was actually broken. She intended to go and buy whatever she had used up, paying for it likely out of pocket. 

The Architect sighed, before slinking back to the couch and stretching out, lifting the book and tucking it back into place on his chest even as he slid a hand behind his head. 

* * *

He roused slightly when she returned, and watched her aether as she tiptoed across the living room and eased into the kitchen loaded down with a variety of bags. Hustling silently back to the front door where Halmarut was saying goodbye, she loaded herself back up and then crept back into the kitchen as he left and made for his own quarters. Emet-Selch idly studied the way she flit about the kitchen, presumably putting things away before she came back to the door and then snuck across to the bedroom. 

It was an easy thing, to shift the bulk of his consciousness to the vessel in the bedroom, and he fought to keep his lips from quirking as she stripped down and then climbed into bed next to him. Limp, convincingly unconscious, the Ascian remained stationary as she brushed some of the hair out of his face and then idly traced her fingers along his cheek. They ghosted down and gently smoothed across his lower lip. 

He couldn't help it, he let the body rouse slightly and idly moved his lips against her thumb. 

The Warrior chuckled softly, replacing it with her lips and tucking down beside him. Her aether went from quietly content to minorly pensive. 

"... Hades?"

"Hm...?"

"I, uhh... I sort've trashed the kitchen. But! But I cleaned it up. Halmarut helped." 

"I know, little Monster." 

She froze, and he shifted to gently move his lips against hers and pull her snug against his side. "You...? And... You're not mad at me?"

"Positively irked and annoyed. You cleaned it as best you could, I will need to test the microwave to ensure you did not, in fact, put anything metal in it and sought help when you needed it. You also replaced whatever it was that you might have used, or at least your best guess as to what it might have been." He cracked a pale gold eye open, tiredly watching her as she idly walked a hand across his chest, tracing her fingers through the sparse hairs there. "I did say I would not make the same mistake I made in Garlemald, which was to leave you without _some_ form of entertainment. Nothing in the kitchen is terribly irreplaceable, unlike many things in my home in Garlemald. While I more thought you would be spending time inking things onto the faces of my vessels, I am more concerned about the fact that you sampled _industrial strength cleaner_." 

"... Yeah, Halmarut said something about that too." She grimaced. "To be fair though, in my defense I can't read ancient Allagan. And I've never really been introduced to the kitchen aside from a place that you cook things in. 'Sides, Nero and I both agreed I'd probably be fine. What's the worse it could do,_ kill_ m-?"

Emet-Selch snapped a hand over her mouth and could could feel his eye and brow twitch slightly. "Little Monster, simply because you _come back_ does not _mean_ that you should risk yourself in such a fashion. You _need_ to shake that mentality."

The Warrior gently peeled his hand from her face, frowning. "... Because it bothers you?"

"Because I have watched you die for _eons._ For a _thousand, thousand years, _and every time you did I traced the path of your soul through the Lifestream to determine where it would be reborn, and watched you _stand back up_." The corners of the Architect's lips pulled down into a deep frown, brows furrowing as she reached to turn his hand and press small kisses against his knuckles and fingers. Her aether had pulled into a tight thoughtful and unsettled coil.

"I... didn't think about that. I'm sorry." 

"I thought not. Now, _make it up to me_ by taking your turn as my pillow, little Monster. Sleep, or do not. Either way, 'tis your penance to remain within arms reach so that I can know you are _safe_."

She nodded, shifting and tugging at him so that he could roll over and loop an arm over her torso, settling his head on her shoulder and sighing softly. 

"Goodnight, little Monster."

"Sleep well, Hades. I'll be here, when you wake up."

Closing his eyes, he let the ghost of a smile ease across his features before he let himself drift into unconsciousness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DO NOT DRINK BLEACH OR INDUSTRIAL CLEANERS IT'S BAD NEWS BEARS AND POISONOUS AND VERY DANGEROUS  
AHHHHHHHHHHHH


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 300k words!  
Have a sort of smut?

It was a quiet morning at the Rising Stones. 

Urianger was something of a creature of habit. Every morning, when he woke up he would inevitably make himself a cup of tea and keep to his rooms until he had finished it and often perused a little bit more of his book as he pulled on his clothes for the day and then make sure he was clean and well groomed. From there, he would throw himself into his research and attempt to discern what he could of Sharlayan prophecy, do some astrologian readings and see where the day would take him. 

There was a problem. There was now an extra step. Shame burned down the back of his neck and through his blood. 

These days, the cup of tea inevitably waited. As did all things that came after it. Instead, he covered his face with a pillow and prayed the extra layer of wards he had added about his room stifled enough of his aetheric presence and sound that his morning _disruption_ would go unnoticed. He would have blamed Feo Ul except that his time in Il Mheg had taught him how to detect fae magic from malms away. No, for this he had nobody to blame but _himself_ and, potentially, Emet-Selch. 

And so he stifled himself in the pillow, back arching as his hand curled and pumped smoothly along his length at a tortuously slow pace. His fingers were slicked with a mix of his own pre and the jar of salve he had reluctantly taken to keeping in a drawer next to his bed, and a bitten back moan was smothered even as he circled his thumb against the tip and then dragged it down the underside. In his mind...

* * *

Pale gold eyes looked up at him, so similar yet so different from his own. There was a presence at his back, wholly familiar and as a breath tickled his ear he knew he was leaning back against where she knelt behind him on the bed. One of her hands slid along his torso, before lifting to gently cup the side of the Architect's jaw even as, smugly, he lowered his head to take the elezen to the root once more. His mouth was hot and wet around his shaft, and he could feel as the tip of him met the back of Emet-Selch's throat. The way he bobbed gave him an _incredible_ view of how the naked Ascian between his stretched out legs had his hands tied behind his back with a length of purple ribbon, and the quiet, pleased hum that came from the Architect had Urianger's toes curling slightly as it vibrated around him. 

"Lovely, stop _cheating_. You'll get your turn soon enough. I'm not _done_ with him yet." Her voice ghosted across his ear, a throaty purr that had the elezen's breath catching even as a moan was pulled from him in response to the way she nibbled up the length of his ear, muffled by the way he had been gagged by a torn strip of his own undergarments. She moved on to his neck, leaving a trail of feather light kisses, and then leaned to the other side to resume her ministrations there. "Sweet, wonderful little Secret keeper. Look at you, caught in a web of someone else's design." 

His eyes were held fast by the Ascian's, who had pulled up for air and tipped his head to the side to lick and nuzzle his way down to the elezen's sack. Fingers came across his torso once more, smoothing across his chest and thumbing across his nipples even as she snickered at the way his hips strained against his control. 

"Ah-ah-ah. None've that. You know better. Do I have to blindfold you, blocking your view so that you just don't _know_ what he's going to do to you next?" Both of her hands came up, and he shuddered as her hands covered his eyes, stealing his sight in time for the Architect's hungry mouth to descent upon him once more. It retreated a heartbeat later as he edged closer, leaving him squirming against the hot breath that panted across the sensitive tip, disrupted only by the tongue that came out to lave in a swirl around the the head. He couldn't breath around the fabric in his mouth, and the cloth was removed so that he could suck in a deep breath. 

* * *

Rolling onto his side, Urianger sucked in a deep breath, light headed from failing to breath through the pillow and taking a moment to let the dizziness fade somewhat even as he grit his teeth. It wasn't _enough_. It wasn't-

A knock at his door had him freezing, and he waited a moment, hoping whoever it was would go away. They didn't, as whomever it was decided to knock again. A brief flick of his fingers had a glamour in place to cover how red his face probably was, and he hauled himself out of bed so that he could stand with himself properly hidden by the door and then unlocked it, cracking it open. He was glad such was all he did, because the Warrior promptly tried to push it wider and he quirked a brow even as he halted it. 

"_Urianger noplease youhavetoletmein Tataruis-"_ Her voice was a panicked hiss, and he was suddenly thankful that he had given himself the illusion of clothing even as he stepped back and let her surge into the room, closing it behind her as the lalafell's voice rang out from around the corner, down the hall. The Warrior glanced around, searching for a spot to hide before she scampered over and dove under the bed. Mere moments later and there was another polite knock at the door. He counted to three, before opening it and peering curiously down at the Receptionist. 

"Ahh, Mistress Tataru. Verily, the report thy requested hath not yet been completed-"

"Is. She. In. Here." The lalafell scowled up at him, and Urianger furrowed his brow and smoothly lied. 

"She? From thy wrath one needs must presume that thou meanst the Warrior didst thus arouse thy ire. Nay, though I did thusly hear booted feet sweep past. Hath thou checked the latch on the window at the end of the hall?" 

"Ohhh! I'm going to _strangle_ her the next time I see her!" Tataru stomped a foot, folding her arms as her scowl deepened. 

"Pray tell, what did yon troublemaker do, to deserve thy scorn?" The astrologian tilted his head, letting the door swing further open as he folded one arm across his chest and lifted the other to his mouth, idly drumming his fingers against his chin. The lalafell threw her hands into the air, practically vibrating with the force of her words. 

"She REFUSED to even try on the coat I made for her! It's not even colourful! I broached the subject with her and she _RAN!_" 

Urianger nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle fitting into place. "I see. Should I find thy prey, I shalt do the utmost to explain the necessity of thy work and attempt to impress upon her the importance of such." 

"Thank you. I should really check that window..." The lalafell turned and headed towards the end of the hall, and he closed the door so that he could lock it and then turned to address the bed under which the Warrior had hidden. 

And froze. There was an Emet-Selch standing next to the bed, looking between the rumpled sheets to the jar of salve nearby and then slowly, oh so slowly turning a look of growing amusement on the elezen. Winter gold eyes raked up and down his form, and Urianger knew for an undisputed fact that the Architect knew that he was not only utterly naked under the illusion, but still sporting an awkward stiffness. 

"_Isshegone?"_

"She is, little Monster." The Ascian lilted out the words, deftly shifting aside and standing a book up to block her view of the salve as she crawled out form under the bed, wheezing. 

"Oh man, I thought I was _done_." The Warrior pushed herself up and dusted herself off, only to straighten and settle her hands on her hips. "Tataru's tryin' to get me to swap coats again. I _like_ this one. The other one has a lower neck, but I don't _care_ how hot a climate I might go into I'm _keepin' _this coat. It's got _pockets_."

"Thy attempts to retain thy apparel notwithstanding-"

"Oh hey! I remember this book!" She beamed, settling into a crouch to carefully tease a book from a stack, and the elezen nodded his head towards the window and gave Emet-Selch a pleading look that snapped back into one of mild curiosity as she stood back up and looked towards him. His efforts yielded an almost predatory smirk as, instead, Emet-Selch sat down on the edge of the bed. "I got you this one, from the tonberries."

"Thy memory does thou credit on this day." Turning and making his way towards the teapot, he traced a finger along the edge of it and started heating up the water with a tiny smidge of his aether. "Mistress Tataru hath likely left the hall by this point, Warrior. Shouldst thou not return to thy own morning activities?"

"Much as I'd like to, she was _really_ angry, and I think it'd be safer for me if I hung out around here for an hour or so instead. She'll have to have gotten sucked into the rest of her work by then." She sounded hopeful, if not completely certain, and Urianger suppressed a cringe before he turned to watch as the ascian pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Subtly gritting his teeth at the utterly smug look he was getting from Emet-Selch, the elezen turned back to the counter and reached up to retrieve two extra cups. 

"Thou wouldst likely require refreshment then. Tea?" 

"Sure! Thanks. Emet-Selch?"

"Oh, why not? I do find myself... _Thirsty_, after all." The words were innocent enough, and the Architect timed the way he turned his face to nose and nip along the side of her neck perfectly for the moment that the astrologian turned around to face them and bring the tray with the teacups and heating kettle back with him. The Warrior simply tilted her head to let Emet-Selch do as he pleased, humming as she cracked open the book. 

"Cuddly today. Maybe I gotta just barely escape danger more often." 

"Such certainly has an appeal." came the bland reply from the Architect, who teased the high collar of her coat down a little bit so that he could press his lips against a revealed red mark, smirking at Urianger. The elezen set the tray down on the bedside table and cleared the books from the nearby chair, seating himself and meeting his gaze evenly and ignoring the way his cock twitched. If the Ascian thought to so easily _break_ him, then he was wrong. He had faced down Feo Ul and fae of the First. He had-

"... Uri."

"Thy tea hath yet to finish steeping." The astrologian smiled easily at the Warrior, who was squinting at him. 

"I mean, yeah, I figured, but your skirts're going through the chair as if it or they don't exist." She pointed down, as if to prove her words and he simply shrugged blandly and turned to lift the lid of the teapot to check on the contents through the wisps of steam. Not quite dark enough. He had a feeling he would need it stronger than usual.

"Thou didst catch me only shortly after mine arrival to the waking world, Warrior. Thou knows I sleep unencumbered." His words narrowed the Architect's eyes, and she nodded and shrugged. 

"Oh. Usually you're up and at'em earlier. You must've slept in, sorry. I -thought- your room was weirdly quiet." She offered him a sheepish smile, before looking back down at the book. "... Are... you okay though? It smells like medicinal herbs in here."

"A simple salve for dry skin, Warrior. Thy concern and worry, however, truly touches the heart." A slightly more genuine smile was offered to her, and he poured her and Emet-Selch each a cup of tea each, adding an inordinate amount of sugar to the Warriors. They were offered over, and she set the book aside to take them both and balance them on her lap, smiling happily. 

* * *

When they finally, _finally_ left, Urianger threw himself down onto the bed. Emet-Selch had been subtly sly with his comments and words, suggestive in ways that seemed to have gone over the Warrior's head with double-speak and translucently innocent quips. Letting his control over the illusion fade, he reached to knock the book that had sheltered the salve from view over so that he could dip his fingers into the small pot and rub his fingers together. 

Rolled onto his side, he curled his fingers about the base of his shaft and slowly, delicately worked them up along his half-hard length. There were _words_ stuck in his head now, metaphors that had rapidly translated into images, and he closed his eyes as he let them play out in his mind. 

_He had his hands pressed against a mirror, shivering and watching the way she studied him from behind, riding crop in her hand getting dragged lightly along the raised welts across his flanks. A punishment. She had caught him **lying**._

_He was standing, her fingers in his mouth to keep him silent as he rutted against her grip. A gloved hand held his arms above his head, pressed against the wall behind him as honeyed words called him all sorts of filthy, nasty things._

_It was him who had his hands tied behind his back with ribbon this time, and she watched him over the Ascian's shoulder as she kept one hand over the Architect's eyes. Her paramour's breath came raggedly, and she took the elezen by the hair to press him down, nose against Emet-Selch's flesh as he was forced to take the other to the hilt, used for the pleasure of another, allowed to touch with nothing but his lips and mouth and nose and face. It would be his turn next. Whoever lasted the longest would earn the right to take her, hard and raw against the dresser, and in his determination not to lose his cheeks hollowed somewhat as he sucked and swirled his tongue against the underside-_

"So, you _do_ remember, in some capacity."

Urianger's eyes snapped open and he froze, face turned against the pillow and rapidly heating with shame. The bed shifted slightly as a weight settled on it, bringing with it the scent of petrichor and the faint, second-hand smell of brandy while a gloved hand ghosted along his arm and fur trim tickled against his back. The voice resumed, directly behind him and practically purring into his ear as he felt the presence looming at his back.

"You were my twin, Rafail. For all that I found her _first_ and you were cautious, you could not _help_ yourself any more than I could. Once she became Eschaton and gained that terrible little _secret_ she always avoided acknowledging, it simply became _worse_. You begged me to let you be reassigned elsewhere. Instead, we had a _conversation_." Fingers curled around the elezen's wrist, guiding his hand up in smooth up and down motions. "That was the _first_ time you joined us. As much as she is _mine_, you... are perhaps the _only_ one I could stomach _touching_ her. Ohh, the things we used to _do_..."

The worst part, was that he wasn't _lying_. The elezen shuddered against the grasp that controlled the way his hand moved, caught off-guard by the way the name that was wholly unfamiliar rang through him like the tolling of a bell.

"It was why I thought you might appreciate my little _thank you_, for your silence. You never brought it up, however, and so I had thought perhaps in your fragmented state that you were utterly _ignorant_. Have you been indulging in these little _fantasies_ this entire time?" Curiosity coloured the voice behind him, and Urianger shuddered, reluctantly nodding. "_Well_ now! _Naughty_ little fractured soul..."

And then those lips were next to his ear, murmuring softly, recounting the past until he painted the wall his bed was set against with thick ropes of white. 

By the time he had caught his breath, his visitor was gone.

* * *

"Why do you smell like medicinal herbs?" 

"Hmm? Oh, I neglected to determine how much the elezen recalls of the past, if anything and decided to return briefly to do so. I hold the tentative hope that he might recall something of Hythlodaeus, and made an attempt to jog his memory." 

"Oh?" The Warrior perked up from where she was watching the people of Revenant's Toll amble about far below, perched on the edge of one of the spans that crossed the ravine it was set into. "Any luck?"

Emet-Selch shrugged idly and joined her, peering downwards. "Not as much as I might have liked. 'Tis some small bit of instinctive memory, perhaps. The soul never _truly_ forgets, after all."

"He's the closest thing you've got to family, and he's been a friend to me for as long as I can remember. Much as I wish my Echo would show other people things, I dunno if I can help in this."

"Fret not, little Monster." One gloved hand waved idly, before he glanced at her and smiled faintly. "I will simply continue to... experiment, and see what yields results."

She blinked at him at that, and tilted her head before shrugging and swinging her legs as she steered the conversation to other topics.


	87. Mitron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorensen's prompt of 'Something something from the past, Amaurot era'  
AHHHHHHHHH I love all the comments and kudos you fine fancy folk give me AHHHH  
We're already past halfway to the next kudos-induced prompt Q.Q  
I love all of you Q.Q

"H-how do you do...?"

Eschaton stared at the nervous, scrawny beanpole of an adult that she had almost exactly a century on, and then looked towards Mitron as the other Convoctaion member loaded another bundle into the yacht. And then back to his student. And then back to the partially obscured, smiling, weathered face of her coworker. 

"Mitron, he is just... _adorable!'_

"Eschaton, we have a job to do." The Traveler shook his head, offering out a hand. She accepted the help getting into the boat, and the nervous student hopped over after her and waved a hand, filling the sails with a gentle breeze. 

"Yes, and you asked me to travel there with you instead of meet you there because you _wanted me to meet your apprentice_." Eschaton spun in place, fixing the student with a grin as he flinched and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "What is your name?"

"Do _not_ feel obligated to answer her Guppy. The Botanist tends to have some trouble remembering where personal boundaries lie." Mitron's voice was dry as he made his way to the helm. 

"U-um..."

"Mitron is completely right." She lifted one finger, pointing at the sky idly as she continued. "But I _am_ an Eschaton, so it's only to be expected. We're all a little weird. I look forward to working with you in the future." 

"M.. Mmme too?" The student gave her a nervous smile, before skittering around her to start putting away the rubberized bumpers that had kept the boat from brushing against the dock. Shaking her head with a chuckle, the Botanist made her way to the helm to stand next to Mitron, lifting her hands to the sky as she did. 

"He has promise and potential. Did he choose this or did it choose him?"

"The Guppy?" Her co-worker shrugged idly, steering them out of the small harbor as the student glanced up at the sail from the nose of the yacht and focused, keeping it full regardless of which way the natural breeze actually went. "He chose this. For all that his aether leans towards wind, he has an avid fascination for ichthyology." 

"Wind is good for a Traveler though." She pointed out, moving to lean on part of the railing and enjoy the breeze. "First by land, then by sea, and then, finally, by the very skies themselves. Everything travels, after a fashion."

"Even plants, stationary as they seem to be." Mitron hummed out a rough chuckle. "He doubts himself." 

"I noticed. Nervous little thing. It's only going to get worse for him, but he has a strength to him for all that it seems intangible. If I were the type to make bets, I would wager everything I'm wearing that he is incredibly reliable in a pinch." 

"Eschaton, that is _highly_ inapropriate." Still, the gentle chiding was laced with amusement, and she chuckled in response. 

"It only serves to underscore how certain I am of this. But you are right, and have my apologies." Eschaton waved her hand idly, as if to waft the matter away even as she tilted her head to the side and quietly cracked her neck. "We have a few hours until we get there. Do you mind if I go below decks and catch some rest?" 

He laughed at that, and gestured invitingly towards the door that led to the belly of the ship. "Did you give Emet-Selch that habit, or does he get it from you?"

"Oh, Mitron, but that would be _telling_, wouldn't it. Bear me away to sweet dreams until we arrive, Traveler." 

"Bloom madly, Botanist."

She snorted and made her way below to stretch out on a couch. 

* * *

A presence breezed past her in the enclosed space, and she remained loosely still as she listened to the barely-there footsteps that ghosted by. Her mask was slightly askew, and she could tell she was being stared at even as she kept her soul contently placid like a cat in a patch of sunlight. Maybe the student would prove adventurous enough to take a peek. She hoped he would. 

Feather light, Mitron's Guppy padded past back towards the door and paused next to her. Instinct prickled across her skin, and she fought it down with barely a ripple across the surface of her soul. Her mask moved slightly...

And was lightly adjusted so that it was properly in place. She could have thrown her hands into the air in exasperation at the way sunlight was now filtering in and hitting her eyes (the mask had been shifted down so that the forehead protected them from such) and his lack of curiosity. Instead, she simply grumbled, shifted, and opened her eyes with a yawn. 

"Timezzit?"

But the room was empty. He had already left, soft as the summer breeze and with half as much forewarning. Eschaton frowned faintly, before shrugging and tugging her mask back down to cover her eyes, going back to sleep until a surge of Mitron's aether roused her once more. 

"Mitron, Guppy, are we there?" She stretched idly as she exited the cabin, looking around and nodding as they looked over the side. The wreckage of one of the beast tribe villages sat ruined on the nearby shore, quiescent and abandoned. The Traveler gestured vaguely, and the anchor dropped to keep the yacht from drifting too far away. 

"We are, Eschaton." Hopping over the side, Mitron dropped down to land atop the surface of the water, his student drifting after him with a backpack slung over his shoulder. She removed her gloves and boots before rolled over the railing and splatted down, gills splitting the sides of her neck and webbing forming between her fingers. Careful to remain within the parameters of what might be considered 'normal' shapeshifting abilities, she simply rolled onto her stomach and idly kicked her way along, keeping pace with the others. 

"Are you... Are you certain... I-I would _never_ question a-a Convocation member, b-but..."

"Worried about the contaminants in the water?" Eschaton rolled slightly onto her side so that she could speak, swishing her flexible frog-esque legs under her robes and peering up at the apprentice. He nodded hurriedly, averting his gaze and white-masked face away. "It's okay to question, Guppy. How else can you learn? Doing this I can sample whatever it is that might be making the fish and plants disappear."

"D-directly, though? Is... Is it not safer to take a sample, and then...? Back at a laboratory...?"

"Technically. But I have an incredible immune system. Something like this will not End me." She waved a webbed hand at him, neglecting to mention that nothing in the immediate area had triggered the Secret that painted such in the oranges they usually did. "The water is brackish with a metallic tang, but not dangerous. Whatever we're looking for, it isn't in the water itself." 

Mitron paused, glancing down at her as she drifted ahead of them and then kicked to idly keep her head and shoulders out of the water while he scratched at the white stubble across his chin. "That tells us something in and of itself. Metallic tang?" 

"I thought it might be mercury but it tastes more like iron. Blood, by my estimation."

"There's... There's no sharks though." The student frowned, glancing around. "The ichthyohomines are-are _missing_ too..."

"I noticed that myse-" Eschaton paused as one of her Secrets triggered, and glanced up. It looked an awful lot like a _target_, and so she kicked her way back from the two abruptly even as the water surged around her. Jaws engulfed her, and she snapped her hands out to brace them on either side of the giant maw that was trying to swallow her. 

Nothing for it then. She leaned over and opened her maw, revealing sharp teeth as she took a big ol' bite of it's gumline. One of her Secrets surged, assimilating it's genetic material, and she smiled faintly as her skin bled to white.

* * *

Mitron cursed under his breath, watching the enormous white, horned serpent that was disappearing back under the water with a Convocation member in it's maw. 

"Mitron! Th-th-that was-!"

"A Leviathan? What is a deep-sea dweller doing in the shallows?" 

"Esh-Eshaton is-!" 

The Traveler waved towards the yacht. "Go back to the ship. If I do not return in three hours, call for help."

A flicker of aether suffused him as his precious Guppy turned and fled as directed as he was sucked under the water. The current he had called upon and adjusted pulled him along, and he spent a moment under the water feeling for the aether of the Eschaton. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he swallowed down his panic and started to search the bay for anything that resembled what a Leviathan might use for a home. 

They preferred cramped, twisting tunnels. A brief tug on one of his Secrets gave him the general lay of the land, and while there wasn't anything similar to what he was looking for there was a small inlet just a little bit up the coast. A thought had the current gripping him once more, and hauling him along until he came to waters stained too dark with blood to see through. Movement churned the cloud, and he stiffened as a flicker of white swept by, stilled, and then turned to coil and circle him. 

The leviathan roared, the sound rumbling out and through the swirling cloud, and he flicked a hand to pull one of his green-tinged swords out of the water. Just as he began to lunge, it snaked abruptly away, leaving him swishing the blade through the water. Another Leviathan surged out, and his personal current hauled him back out of the way even as the serpent that had circled him lunged across and slammed into the scarred one that he was escaping. 

Mitron frowned faintly as they disappeared into the brackish cloud, noting physical differences. Where the unscarred one should have had a lengthy dorsal fin, instead it possessed a long line of bone protrusions that overlapped like scales that were tipped with spikes. The cloud churned, and the odd Leviathan slithered out, twisted to look at him, and simply... Floated in place. 

The scarred one eased out beside it, keeping close as two more far smaller ones slithered around and stuck close to what was presumably their parent, and with them came a realization. The scarred one was a _female_, the mother, and had chosen the inlet as an odd place to bear her young. She must have, and then spent her time clearing out anything that might have potentially harmed her spawn. Or, Mitron drifted back a little bit as he thought about the size of the two smaller ones, or they had been hunting practice. 

The bone-plated Leviathan rumbled and turned towards the other, nosing her and then struck out for deeper water. The scarred mother silently followed, her two spawn trailing in her wake. He tried to think if males of the species were supposed to look so drastically different, but came up empty. 

That in mind, he felt about for Eschaton's aether, and resolved to at least find her body when it was absent.

* * *

Mitron waded out onto the shore, a handful of grey robes and a cracked mask in one hand and trying to think about what, exactly, he would tell the rest of the Convocation let alone Emet-Selch. 

'A member of the Convocation has died.' He thought that was a good place to start. Certainly better than reminding everyone that she was the Architect's wife. They would have to find the previous holder of the title and see if he was willing to train another. In the meantime, Mitron could think of several ways to disappear that might save his life. There was a lovely little island-

"Mitron! Sir! It's Eschaton-"

"I failed, Guppy. This was all I could find." He looked down at the mask in his hand as his apprentice drifted to a stop nearby, and froze as his student continued. 

"What? B-but... She's... She's on the _phone_."

"Impossible." Lifting his head, Mitron stared at the Guppy who nodded and held out his mobile. Cradling it against his ear, he tentatively cleared his throat. "... Mitron speaking."

_"Mitron! Hey, sorry for the scare. I ripped my robes and lost my mask getting away from that thing. Fret not, I am fine."_

"What happened?" 

_"Hmm? Oh. Well, she took me back to her babies, tried to feed me to them and I gave her a stern talking to, and she should be heading back to her natural habitat. She was in the shallows because she's mute and lacks echolocation, and needed to be closer to the surface to be able to raise her babies safely. I think the fish-folk might have accidentally killed one, which made her come up to the island and eat them."_

"You gave her a stern talking to."

_"Naturally. I **am** an Eschaton."_

"Where are you now?" Mitron gestured towards the ruined village, and his student followed. Together, they started to pick through the rubble. 

_"At an outpost. Don't worry about me. My Enforcers picked me up. I just need my mask back and then I will be presentable once more. Hold onto it for me, will you?"_

"I will. What do you make of the male that was with her?" It took only a few moments to dig up a much smaller Leviathan skull, which drew a sigh from him as he gestured to it and then the yacht. His apprentice nodded, hauling it up and taking it back as the Traveler gestured and dried himself off with a brief flicker of aether. 

_"Impressive. Definitely not something I would want to tangle with. Seems to be a cross-breeding mutation, though I could not for the life of me say with what. Seemed to be deaf, too. Probably why they made the pair they did. One of them couldn't scream, and the other couldn't hear it anyways. Listen, I need to get going, one of my Enforcers has soup and I am just... -starving-."_

"You were just eaten. I would have thought you would have lost your appetite because of that." He frowned, making his way back to the yacht, shaking his head.

_"What can I say, I stress eat and anyone would find being eaten by one of those things very stressful. I will meet up with you within the hour."_

The line went dead, and Mitron shook his head. 


	88. One and One and One is Three (pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of a prompt I done been given.  
No smut, but next chapter there will be  
This was an inevitability but apparently it's happening -now- instead of later xD

Urianger took a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. The Warrior was in his room, trying to figure out how to keep herself occupied without destroying things. Emet-Selch was, presumably, still asleep but there was a faint prickle against the aether that he was feeding into his not-yet permanent wards that indicated at least one Ascian, somewhere, was trying to subtly watch them. 

Not for the first time did the elezen wish he could stop time and spend a century innundating himself with all of the knowledge he was getting piecemeal from their allies. He knew that there was a way to pick through such a thing and identify who it was, but as of yet he hadn't had a chance to review his notes. He was learning as quickly as he could and still felt like he would die of old age before he managed to learn a fraction of what he wanted to. He was woefully unprepared for both the sheer amount of information being dumped on him and the need to proverbially babysit the Warrior. 

He didn't have anything on hand that might distract her. He had simply stuffed as many blank notebooks and writing materials that he could fit into his pack essentials notwithstanding, strapped his folding tent to the outside of it and followed them. Initially they had been going to an entirely new Shard and he hadn't wanted to risk breaking delicate instruments with whatever travel by way of Emet-Selch implied, however... 

A tangent wouldn't save him. He pulled his thoughts back to the present and winced as he realized she was out of his line of sight. A quick glance around spotted her by his bed, picking up a jar of salve and opening it to take a sniff. He felt himself going red and quickly stepped over to snatch it out of her hands. 

"Man, you must have some sort've chafing problem, considering you brought this stuff. Dry skin still hasn't cleared up?" She quirked a brow behind her mask, tilting her head. "... You okay? You're really red." 

"Thy concern is appreciated." He managed a smile, internally cursing as he closed the lid and tucked it away into a drawer. "However, 'tis also unnecessary. In such rapidly changing climates, such a thing is oft a necessity." 

"Y'know, lying to me just makes me want to know more details, right?" She peered at him curiously, before sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's got nothing t'do with the climate, does it." 

Urianger sighed softly, before sitting down next to her and folding his hands on his lap. Casting about for a moment for something that might help, he hit upon an idea and wove his fingers together. 

"Priscilla, thou knows that, after the business with the Exarch, thou didst make it clear that any lying with regards to major events was intolerable-"

"Yeah, and you promised you wouldn't do it again. You swore on your life that if I ever caught you lying like that to me again, I would be well within my rights to make your life a living hell. Whatever of it I saw fit to leave you with."

"Correct." He cleared his throat, idly tapping his thumbs together. "Thy recollection of such is remarkably pristine. However, there are yet things that I would keep to myself. Personal secrets that I would thus seek to keep from any eye, ones that lack any true bearing on your goals..."

"_He_ did _what_."

Urianger went very, very still, eyes widening as he glanced over. He reached out, mouth opening to say something, anything, but... 

Well, she had always been fast. 

"Wai-"

She only paused long enough for the door to open, and was gone before he had stood up and taken two steps. 

* * *

Hades could feel a disturbance in the aether. It was like standing next to a burning building that was _moving_, and as he surfaced from the depths of his healing slumber he could feel the alarm from Igeyorhm across Azys Lla. Faintly, in the distance, Emmerololth also expressed confusion, but she was too far away for more than a vague sense of it to reach him. The door to his rooms slid open, and he roused the vessel on the couch as the Warrior stormed in and parked the hurricane of her emotions around them both. In the eye of it as he was, there was a disquieting sense of calm that was matched by the expressionless stare she was giving him. 

Emet-Selch swallowed slightly, pushing himself up and slowly setting the book aside. Countless years of self-preservation instinct were screaming at him to flee. He remained seated, cautious and waiting for her to speak. 

She didn't. She stared at him, unblinking, unmoving, taking slow, measured breaths. Igeyorhm tried to catch his attention to make sure everything was okay, but he brushed her off and gave her a sense of _patience/distance_ that would serve to keep her at bay for the time being. Tentatively, the Architect cleared his throat. 

"... Little Monst-?"

She crossed the gap, one hand raised as if to strike him before she halted abruptly, nostrils flaring as she practically vibrated in place. Defensively, the Ascian had partially curled and widened his eyes, until he felt Urianger rushing up the hallway outside. His eyes flicked to it as it open, revealing the out of breath elezen. 

"Priscil-"

The Warrior _blurred_, and the whirling vortex that had settled in the aether around Emet-Selch abruptly vanished. It streaked through the halls, and the Architect straightened slightly as he tracked it out of the main structure, along one of the cables that connected it to the chunks of rock that had been pulled along with Azys Lla and then to where it finally rested at the very edge within the barrier. 

"Oh for the love of... What did you _do_?" Lips curled into a scowl, the Ascian folded his arms and stared at the astrologian who tucked a hand against his side. 

"She... Echo... Salve... Bed..."

Oh. Oh _no_. Hades buried his face in his hands and let out a slow breath as he connected the dots and Urianger slumped against the door frame. It took a moment to formulate some semblance of a plan before he immediately discarded it and simply pushed himself to his feet and turned, stepping through a rift. 

It deposited him a short distance away from the Warrior, who was staring out at the barrier and idly taping her fingers against the pommels of her swords. All the planning in the world could not give him an edge in he expected to come next, and he blinked as the maelstrom he faced simply... Vanished. It evaporated, and she threw her head back and _laughed_. 

There was nothing pleasant nor humorous about it. It was raw and sounded like she had taken all of the anger within her and was trying to vent it. Her aether had compacted into something similar to what he had encountered after following her to the corpse of the guardian of the lake. Spiked, practically barbed in places with so much of her usual warmth turned inwards that it made the very air about her seem hot by comparison. 

A crellbron drifted closer, noted who was there, and then turned to go the other way.

The Warrior stopped laughing, head tilting slightly to the side. 

"Go on then. Let's hear it." 

Hades cast about for inspiration. Finding none, he decided to take a page out of her proverbial book and _wing_ it. He drifted closer, touched down next to her and watched the way the clouds swirled and danced along the faint ripple of the barrier before opening his mouth.

"Hythlodaeus, yourself and I were _involved_, although only you and I were bonded." It was a blunt truth, and he internally cringed as he slumped slightly and sighed, side-eyeing her. 

"So I _heard_." The words were far too amused for it to be honest, though she kept any hysteric notes out of it. Her smile was an easy one, and he winced at the familiarity of it. There was nothing _honest_ to it. 

"I thought perhaps I might be able to elicit some manner of inherited memory from the soul of the person who was for all intents and purposes my brother-" It was _a_ truth, perhaps, but he could see it wasn't earning him any points and swiftly changed tactics as he looked back out at the clouds. "... He has been masturbating to the thought of _both_ of us, little Monster. Similar to how he would as Hythlodaeus. You _know_ that the thing I crave the second most in all of Creation is the _familiar_."

"Sounds _awfully_ defensive for a man who had their hand all over my friends _junk_. While in a relationship. With _me_." The words lacked any type of sharpness, full of laughter as if she just couldn't get enough of how _funny_ she found the situation. It cut him perhaps worse than if she had laced her tone with venom, especially when compared with the way her soul simply became more _jagged_. "'Sides, when _family_ does that to one another, 's called _incest_ and it's _not good_, innit."

"Rafail is-_was_ not actually my brother, though I know such is not your actual... Concern." Clearing his throat, he turned to face her, frowning faintly when she continued to look anywhere but him with that easy smile. He didn't _like_ feeling as though he was about to lose her. He did _not_ like it at _all_. It harkened back to the time he had given her an ultimatum and- "He thought about you in such a manner before I revealed myself to you in the Crystarium."

That got a laugh tinged with hysteria out of her, and she turned to face him directly. He leaned back at the intensity of her gaze, and for a moment wondered if such was how Elidibus had felt the moment before she had cleaved into him. "He did _not_. He loved Moenbryda. Trust me. I buried those feelings for him _long_ ago, because I didn't want to get in the way."

"He pursued the roegadyn due to the similarities betwixt the two of you and how he instinctively believed you would always pine for someone else."

She laughed again, throwing up her hands and turning to start walking away. "That's _rich!_"

"By all means, ask him. Ask him about what he dreamed of in Il Mheg. Better yet, call King Titania, and confirm with a third, uninvolved party. I have been led to believe she found him pining and adjusted his dreams accordingly." Emet-Selch folded his arms, hunching defensively, hoping she might stop. Hoping she might turn around. Hoping-

She paused mid-step, and that dying flicker of hope that had him contemplating simply throwing himself at her and _begging_ as much as the thought made him cringe doubled in size. 

"... Feo Ul."

The word hung in the air. Outside the barrier, a flicker of orange manifested and then peered through the ripple between the clouds. Emet-Selch snapped his fingers hurriedly, opening a hole for them to come through. 

"My beautiful [sapling]! Ohh, who has crossed you now? Woe betide them-"

"Feo Ul. I am _not_ in the right mood to do you justice. I will trade you an unnamed favour for the truth." 

Wings fluttering, the fae looked between the Warrior and the Ascian, taking in the slightly crumpled way he stood and comparing it to how the rogue seemed to be mid-step, paused in an attempt to simply leave. "Yes, of course my [precious sapling]. What [adamant truth] do you seek?"

"Did you give Urianger dreams of me, while he was in Il Mheg."

"The [Riddlemaster]? Aye, of course. Controlled as he is, he pined for you fiercely. It fed his desire to lie, to see to the Exarch's success that you might live." Feo Ul orbited around to peer curiously at the Warrior's face, baffled as she lifted both hands to remove her mask and then scrub the other over her eyes and the bridge of her nose. 

"Have you haunted his recent ones?" 

"I have. Ohh, but they have gotten _spicier_ of late." Feo Ul's face split into a delighted grin as they spun about, giggling.

"Lemme guess." The Warrior's tone was utterly dry as she sighed. "Emet-Selch joins in on the fun."

The fae giggled, nodding and clapping their hands together. "Isn't it _wonderful, _how his imagination blooms madly!" 

"Sure. Let's go with that. Thank yo-"

"Now for that _favour_. What's going on, to have you [wrathful] my precious [sapling]?" Feo Ul tucked their hands on their hips, scowling as they leaned forward. "Why does your little [rat-man] look about ready to crumple inwards?"

"Ask _him_ that. I need to clear my head." Turning and starting to pick her way through the rocks, the Warrior grunted as the fae folded her arms. 

"Young Miss. You will _hold your end of the bargain_ or so help me I will _turn you into a frog_." 

Priscilla bristled, looked at Feo Ul, and made a mistake. 

"It was never agreed 'pon _when_ I would hold to my end of the-"

The rest of her words came out in a croak, and she stared at the fae in sullen silence for a very long moment.

* * *

Emet-Selch sat on a folding chair on the rarely used balcony attached to his rooms. Urianger sat in another, idly shuffling his cards. Feo Ul wiggled her finger at the frog that was being almost lazily spun in the air. 

"So, if I'm to understand this right, the three of you hold candles for one another, from a time before time." The fae swung her legs, wings fluttering periodically to keep her balanced on the railing. "But in this lifetime, first it was my [sapling] for the [Riddlemaster], and he said no?"

"Such was not spoken of, and instead a silent understanding was thus achieved." The elezen cleared his throat quietly. 

"And then, my [sapling] enkindled a flame for the [rat-man], which he said yes for?" Feo Ul looked towards Emet-Selch who narrowed his eyes and sneered. 

"I know what that _means_, [Foreign King]. But yes, 'tis the right of it."

"Good. But now, you little [rat-man] have tried to rekindle a fondness from the past? That the [Riddlemaster] is receptive to?"

"Oh for the love of..." Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Ascian heaved a tired sigh and gave up fighting Titania's chosen name for him as Urianger pinked across the cheeks and looked away, slightly nodding. "And now the Warrior is _angry_ with the both of us. I am _trying _ to make it right."

"Hmm. I can't say I follow why. To love and be loved, if such is mutual, is a beautiful thing." Feo Ul peered at the frog that croaked woozily.

"Great King, beloved Feo Ul, 'tis the way of the people of Eorzea to have their own customs. By and large, the customs of the land tend to avoid polyamory." Urianger looked back towards the fae, tucking his cards onto his lap. "Save for some few instances, marriage is betwixt two individuals, and no more. The miqo'te are notable exceptions."

"But... But don't they get _bored_?" They peered at him, baffled. 

"Often." Admitted the elezen, who gestured towards the now stationary frog that was hanging limply in mid-air. "Thy Sapling doth find herself possessive and feels betrayed. By her upbringing - and to a large extend, my own native culture - to lay with one and one only is what is considered acceptable." 

"Well that's just _rubbish_. Full glad I am that we of Il Mheg taught you better." Feo Ul tossed their head, before letting the frog drop to the ground. The Warrior hit the ground with a grunt, released back into her form and groaning as her world continued to slowly spin in ways that had nothing to do with alcohol. "Well? What have you to say for yourself, my poor, misguided [Sapling]?"

"Look, King..." She hauled herself up onto her hands and knees before tipping to the side and twisting to get her rump under her, sprawling onto her back instead. "He -cheated- on me-"

"Did he now? At what, cards?" The fae flit away from the railing, coming to a stop in front of Emet-Selch. "Do you no longer love her?" 

"-Please-, I refused to stop loving her even when I learned she chunks math equations into rounded blocks of ten. I will _never_ stop loving her." 

"And you, my poor, poor [sapling]?" 

The Warrior was quiet for a long moment, staring at the sky sullenly. "... No. And that's why it _hurts_."

"And you, [Riddlemaster]?" Feo Ul turned to level Urianger with a _look_. He turned slightly red, and coughed delicately. 

"To get between yon Warrior of Light and Ascian is not my-"

"Words words words! And ne'er the bluntly _honest_ ones. Small wonder my misguided, foolish [sapling] grieves for a thing not dead!" The fae folded their arms, huffing. "Well?"

"... Yes." 

"To both?"

The elezen nodded, looking away and red to the tips of his ears. He took a deep breath, before letting it out in a soft sigh. "To lust after the lover of another is a shameful thing."

"[Rat-man], do you feel the same for the [Riddlemaster]?" The fae left Urianger to busy his hands with the task of shuffling his cards to focus on Emet-Selch, who rolled his eyes at the term and slumped back into his chair. 

"To a variable degree." 

"And you, my [sapling]?"

"I... I buried that. He loved _Moenbryda_. And she died." There was more, but it was left unspoken until the elezen sighed softly. 

"Thou were never _blamed, _Warrior. She gave of herself willingly, to defeat the Ascian that had come with gravely ill intent towards the Scions." 

"I should have-" 

The Architect rolled his eyes, folding his hands on his lap. "-Please-, little Monster, you of all people should know that everyone has their limits. Take it from a _professional idiot_ that bears the weight of those who sacrificed themselves to bring Zodiark into being. From what I can tell, Moenbryda simply beat you to the punch. It would not have been the first time you burnt your proverbial _candle_ at both ends to produce a burst of aether for some massive undertaking that held the very real possibility of your death." 

"Moenbryda was not your fault, Priscilla." Urianger shifted from his chair, settling into a crouch beside the Warrior as she miserably looked away. 

"This- it's- This isn't about me or Moenbryda anyways! Emet-Selch did a _dumb_ and-and _touched_ you. And _did things_. And..." She swallowed slightly blinking open her eyes and looking up as the Ascian shifted to lean over the side of his chair and quirk a brow at her. 

"And you would be a fool to think that I suddenly did not want you, that you had made some manner of mistake to drive me into the arms of another or craved you one fraction of an ilm less than I always do. If it makes you _uncomfortable_, then 'tis simply a matter of never doing so again. Which I shall so swear on my true name, right now, if you so wish. My world orbits the star that is _you_, little Monster. And I will not _lose_ you again."

"I..." She faltered, before Feo Ul drifted over and tucked their hands on their hips. 

"Have you even _tried_ it, my poor, suffering [sapling]? I have seen the dreams of the [Riddlemaster]. Why not live in the moment, and give it a go?"

"Feo Ul! That's-!" Flustered, the Warrior gestured to both Ascian and elezen. "That's not- That's not the _point!_ I can't just-... I just _can't_!"

"Why not? You're thinking about it. When have you _cared_ for societal norms?" The fae tittered, before flitting back to the railing. "Be brave, my [sapling]. I will consider the favour paid and home awaits." 

"Feo Ul-!" She sat up, reaching out as the fae fluttered away and let her hand drop as she was ignored. "You... You _bitch_." 

Urianger cleared his throat, before pushing himself to his feet and turning towards the door. 

"As this conversation hath thusly reached it's natural end, I shall seek the solitude of my chambers." 

"Urianger-"

"I needs must _attend_ myself, Warrior of Light. If I am thus reduced to having either of you, or both of you, only within the parameters of mine own dreams, then I should thank you kindly to allow me the privacy to do so when needed." 

She coloured at that, and floundered as he stepped towards the sliding glass doors, though she looked up as he paused and sighed. "... Unless, of course, thou would consent to _assisting_ me in this endeavor?" 

The red across her face spread down the back of her neck, and her jaw worked soundlessly before practically jumping out of her skin as Emet-Selch almost offhandedly chimed in. 

"Or allowed me to. Truly, we find ourselves at quite the _crossroads_. I hate to admit it, but the irritating little _gnat_ had a point. I stand - or rather, currently sit - by my words however. If you find such _disagreeable_, then I shall so swear to never do such again and that will be that. King Titania was right about at least one more thing, however. You _are_ thinking about it." 

"I am _not_-" She met his eye and looked away, shoulders hunching at the brow the Architect had quirked. "_Okaymaybealittlebitbutthat'snotthepoint_."

"No. The point is that you feel betrayed because we are, both of us, _possessive_. I _do_ understand, little Monster, after all I overreacted when the thought of Elidibus _touching_ you, solicited or otherwise crossed my mind. And t'would be patently unfair of me to say that I can be upset by this thing where you cannot. Ridiculous. Irresponsible as an adult and entirely unreasonable in fact. It was, in your eyes _wrong_. I understand this. I would be lying if I said otherwise." Emet-Selch rubbed his temples, sighing. "I will accept any punishment you deem fitting, save for your absence."

"The point is that it wasn't wrong in _your_ eyes, Hades." 

"I... No. It was not. Because it was painted in familiar colours. Because it reminded me of a time before everything _ended_." He slumped in his chair, resting his hands on the arms. "Because, enjoyable as it is, physically joining in such a manner pales in comparison to what _really_ matters. Because Hythlodaeus was the soul I _said no_ to _Zodiark_ for."

The Warrior went from still somewhat red to pale as her aether cringed, and glanced up to Urianger for confirmation. The astrologian was staring at the Ascian with wide eyes, and frowned faintly as the Architect turned increasingly bitter. 

"_You_ were already gone, little Monster. They were punishing him, for _protecting_ me. And then, when they gave him back, I had to watch him _die_ in ten and three years. Rapidly aging, withering like an _apple_ left-" 

"Hey, hey it's okay. That's..." The Warrior quickly pushed herself up, reaching out to wrap an arm around him as best she could. She sucked in a breath as he shuddered and leaned his head against her, working to re-compartmentalize the memory. "... You both _promise_, that if I get squicked out, that if I don't _like_ it, that it _never_ happens again?"

"I find myself _no longer in the mood_, little Monster." 

"You weren't in the mood ten minutes ago when you offered to deal with my best friend's _boner_. You were testing the waters. But you're right. If this... If we're gunna try this, we've all gotta be, I dunno." She cast about for the right word for a moment, blinking when Urianger spoke up from behind her. 

"Enticed?"

"Not a bad word, that. But yeah. If... We're gunna try this, _later_, you both promise that if it sits wrong with me or weirds me out or I find it disagreeable in some manner that it _never_ happens again?"

"Of course, little Monster." 

"Thusly do I so swear this thing, Priscilla." 

She glanced back to find the elezen partially dipped into a bow, and swallowed slightly before nodding. 

"O-okay. We'll... Talk later and plan, then? I guess?" 

The astrologian straightened and nodded, smiling faintly before turning and heading back to his rooms. 


	89. One and One and One is Three (pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sips drink*  
Hope y'all -thirsty-

The Warrior had tucked herself against Emet-Selch once he had stretched out on the couch. Now that she wasn't incensed, she was left with the thoughts that circled through her head almost non-stop. Emet-Selch had been _touching_ someone else, and the thought made her sullenly bitter. He had been touching _Urianger_, which was... Less bad? Not _okay_, because really with how long ago he had started to... With how long ago...

_Shit_, she thought to herself. That barely more than a week ago. That was one trashed kitchen, one fight with the Shade of Emet-Selch, the arrival of the Crellbron, a half a handspan of trips back and forth to the Prima Vista and at most two days on the Eighth. It felt like _forever_. 

He was wound up over the blueprints. He was, admittedly, probably the only Ascian truly capable of even _trying_ to keep up with her. He was struggling with the line between _too much_ and _not enough_ when it came to affection between the two of them, and for all that he had her within easy reach at any given time he was _paranoid_ that she was going to disappear. Just the same as she was. But on top of that, he had spent years beyond counting, _generations_ in fact fighting with practically everything he had trying to get back even a glimpse of the life he had lost. 

Could she truly blame him for _touching_ the closest thing to Hythlodaeus? 

_Yes_, a spiteful part of her whispered. _Mine mine mine._

He was. Wholly, fully, to the point where between Eschaton's secret and his honest love for her, he had been able to mitigate the worst of Zodiark's influence and _talk_ to her on the First, and that was after _thousands_ of years of going without being exposed to anything that truly resembled either. She had felt the depths of his devotion written across the very surface of his soul. That wasn't going to just... _Change_. 

It was part of why she had trusted him utterly, wholly when Elidibus had handed her the blueprints that had been recovered from the Thirteenth. He was utterly _incapable_ of that type of betrayal. But this...

_Mine mine mine._

If she was going to _do_ this, she had to be okay with sharing Hades. The thought made her grimace and instinctively had her clutching the side of his coat all the tighter as she buried her face into the fur that lined the edge of his coat, inhaling deeply. The smell of petrichor hit her, and she shuddered. The smell that came after rain. 

Specifically, the smell that came after the rain that accompanied a _funeral. _Fresh turned dirt. Crushed roses. The dust of a tomb. Nothing she would have ever thought she would have gravitated towards. And yet, there she was, shifting to tuck her nose as close to his skin as she could get it and letting out a soft sound as one of his arms folded around her as he tutted quietly. 

"As much as I _enjoy_ the way you squirm against me, I am _incredibly_ tired and attempting to find some measure of rest."

"Trying. Probably failing as spectacularly as I am." She grumbled, unhappy. The quietly amused sound that huffed out of him preceded a soft sigh. 

"I always seem to lose sight of how _perceptive_ you tend to be. You hide it well under a veneer of a frantic, nigh manic inability to focus on one thing for more than a count of five." 

"Can't help it." She sulked as he pulled her properly atop him, adjusting accordingly so that she could snuggle against his chest and even going so far as to tug the red sash out of the way and undoing the collar of his shirt. The Warrior took advantage of his offer and nosed along his neck. 

"... Is it truly so terrible an idea?"

She froze. Twelve, but he sounded so... So _sad_, and she slowly settled with a sigh and pressed her lips against his throat. "... I don't know. I dunno if I _can_ share you. And I dunno how I feel about knowing you can."

"_Only_ with him. Believe you me, I very nearly returned to splatter your Lord Commander across a wall when you hugged him, after you had bid me to go and distract Elidibus." He frowned faintly at the way her aether swirled sheepishly. "... By your Twelve, is there _anyone_ you have yet to do something lewd with?" 

"I mean, I may have mentioned it but before you my standards were _really_ low and I tended to be _really_ drunk most of the time." She cleared her throat. "And you had Garlean orgy parties! So..."

"And neither of these things overlapped with anything post your arrival to the First. Yes, I am _well_ aware. Things are _different_ now." 

"They _are_. And I'm -shit- with the feelings part of things."

"For what it's worth, I am too. I should... I should _not_ have simply assumed that indulging in the past would have been acceptable for the present without consulting you first." His fingers shifted along her back, tracing idle patterns through her shirt as she grumbled. A thought occurred to her, and she heaved a sigh. 

"Is... Is he _really_...? I mean..."

The Ascian hummed curiously for a moment, and she watched the way his face scrunched slightly in a partial wince. 

"I believe so. He has ceased fueling his wards, but by and large all that I can feel from here is frustration." 

"Frustration?" The Warrior propped herself up, and Emet-Selch cracked open two tired, pale-gold eyes. "Why would he be frustrated?"

"Do you want the blunt, honest answer or the evasive one he would probably want me to give." The Ascian quirked a brow, and it was her turn to frown.

"Honest, please."

"Because he is a needy, self-flagellating thing for which fantasies only serve to incite. Oh, certainly he can _finish_ himself, but by and large he finds it unsatisfactory simply by dint of how 'tis _not enough_." The Architect closed his eyes once more, shifting to settle more comfortably on the couch and letting his head loll slightly to the side. Subtly as he dared, he studied her aether and fought down a smirk at how it was roiling with a mix of curiosity, hesitation and mild shame. "'Tis hard to partially smother yourself with naught but a _pillow_ after all. Certainly, one may _try_ but without someone to truly toe the line between seeing stars and unconsciousness 'tis simply not the _same_."

"You say that like you know that for a fact." He could feel the way she was squinting at him, and idly tracked the way she was stifling _want_ as it spread through her. 

"Because I _do_. Hythlodaeus was ever the little _shit disturber_. We both punished him on a regular basis once such was discovered. But come now, little Monster. Surely you do not wish to hear about how many of your fingers you would stuff into his mouth to promote a muffled type of silence." 

"Don't think I don't _know_ what you're _doing_, mister manipulator." 

"You are _dangerously_ perceptive little Monster. At this point I barely even try to hide it. Such was why I said you surely did not wish to hear about it, yet said it anyways." He let a smirk cross his features at that. "Besides, the after care was the _true_ treat. For all that any one of us might have been _rough_ with the others, we took _very_ good care of one another." 

"Look, he's probably just... Doing advanced aether-maths, and cant find the answer." She hunched her shoulders, and the Ascian huffed out an amused sound. 

"Would you like proof, then?" 

She _hesitated_. And then...

_Nodded_.

Emet-Selch wrapped his arms around her and mustered himself, murmuring a soft '_vanish'_ as a rift opened up beneath them.

* * *

Urianger growled quietly as he bit into the pillow, partially on his side with his hips canted on an angle, hand furiously working along his length. Sweat had beaded across his brow and shoulders, and he sucked in a shuddering breath through his nose as his hips bucked. A soft, keening sound eased out of him as his eyes fluttered open, that peak _just_ out of range, and lifted his head slightly to thump it against the rest of the pillow. He remained still for a moment, catching his breath before he started again, thickly muttering _names_ under his breath. 

Invisible, wide eyed and still stretched out along Emet-Selch's torso as he remained floating horizontal in the air, the Warrior _stared_ and rapidly did her best impression of a humanoid tomato. Slowly, she dragged her gaze down to the Ascian who gestured blandly with one hand towards the bed as if to say 'I told you so'. She swallowed quietly and then paused as silence filled the room. She looked back towards the bed to find Urianger had partially sat up and pulled a sheet across himself, searching the room with his eyes and, though she couldn't feel it, likely his aether too. 

Slowly, he slumped back down, seemingly satisfied with whatever he had or hadn't found, sprawling out with a quiet curse and covering his face with the hand that wasn't sticky with salve. The other came down to idly adjust himself, and he shuddered as he traced his fingers along his sack and then further back, teasing himself. She froze as he sat back up, eyes narrowing as he studied his room once more. Lifting his clean hand, he curled it slightly and the Ascian grunted softly as they both flickered and became visible. 

It was Urianger's turn to freeze, and he went from red-faced with lust to red to the tips of his ears. The Warrior hesitated, before offering him the smallest of awkward waves. 

"Why are you _here_." The elezen's voice was a husky rasp, and she cleared her throat. 

"I, uhh... That's... A very good question-" 

"She didn't quite believe me when I told her you were, in fact, very likely still masturbating." The Architect's answer was bland, and he tipped his face away and to the side as her hand plopped down to try and cover his mouth. It was further spoiled by how he shifted in mid-air, righting both of them and setting her gently onto her feet. 

Urianger studied them for a long moment before pushing himself back into the corner on his bed and tugging the sheet with him. "Thou has thy answer. If that is all, I am certain that thou canst find the door."

"And..." The Warrior's voice was utterly tiny, for all that she rather suddenly had the undivided attention of both men in the room. "... What if... It _wasn't_ all...?"

The elezen tilted his head slightly, and sighed. "Then I would say 'tis entirely unlike thee, to hesitate so. Thou art a being of _action_ after all, less so contemplation."

"Look, it's not like I've done _this_ before, let alone _stone cold sober_." 

"I can _fix_ that. But you must _want_ me to before I do." Emet-Selch settled his hands on her shoulders, looking over at the elezen on the bed. "As must he." 

"Thus begs the question. _Do_ you?" Urianger idly toyed with the edge of the blanket, eyes partially lidding as he watched the Warrior visibly weigh her options. "Such is not a decision that canst be offloaded onto the shoulders of another." 

"Oh, you dear, _dense_ boy. You are asking her entirely the _wrong_ question in your attempt to get her to _admit_ it." The Ascian tutted quietly. "She _does_. _You_ do. I find myself beginning to enjoy the view. Surely you can find a more appropriate question, hm?"

The elezen smiled slightly, and inclined his head slightly. "Then allow me to rephrase thusly. Do you _like_ what you see?" 

She swallowed slightly, still red across the face and nodded hesitantly.

"Then I have my answer. Try not to start without me." Emet-Selch let go of her shoulders and turned to step through a rift, leaving them alone in the room. Urianger idly palmed himself as she drifted closer and snagged a chair, slowly dragging it over. She set it down a fulm or so away from the bed, and sat down on it as she stared at him. 

"This doesn't... Make you uncomfortable?" She tested the proverbial waters, resting her hands on her knees as he hummed a soft laugh and slowly shook his head. 

"Yon Ascian made a rather grand spectacle in the mens half of the hot springs before apparating in the womens section to engage thou in thy game." 

She coughed quietly, sheepishly looking away. "... Right. At the end. That was you, then. You cleared your throat."

"Just so. Thancred did linger 'pon the threshold, and I believed that forewarning was necessary."

"I-" The Warrior paused as a rift opened and Emet-Selch stepped through, Two bottles were carefully hefted with one hand, a far smaller one grasped in the other. "Wine?" 

"Garlean red. I am _fond_ of this vintage, considering the lengths I went through to ensure it was exactly the same as what was produced in Allag. I also happen to have a great deal of it tucked away." He offered one bottle out to her, and she took it before drawing a knife and carefully prising off the wax seal. He reached past her to the bed stand to set the second one down, and as she worked the cork out he offered the smaller bottle to the elezen. "You _may_ find this a bit less offensively _pungent_. However, I would recommend cleaning yourself of the salve first. Oil and cream do not often mix as enjoyably as one may first think they would."

He nodded, scooting off the bed and taking it, letting the blanket fall away and making his way to the vanity. He could feel all eyes in the room on him, and once he had wet the cloth turned to properly face them as he delicately wiped away the salve. A glance up confirmed that the Warrior was constantly glancing between the way the tip of him bobbed and his face, while Emet-Selch deftly stole the bottle of wine and took a drink. She made only the faintest noise of protest before he tucked it back into her hands so that she could as well. 

"Thou both truly _do_ like to watch." 

"Guilty as charged." She smiled sheepishly as he finished and crossed the room, settling back onto the bed. He pulled the cork from the vial and poured a small amount of the oil into the palm of one hand, pleased with the viscosity and leaned back against the wall so that he could palm himself. A soft sigh eased through him, and he let his eyes partially close before humming thoughtfully. 

"Laced with some manner of healing substance?" 

"Two and a half bells is a _very_ long time for a mortal body to have an erection." 

"_Funny_, I never seem to have that problem." The Warrior's tone was bland, and Emet-Selch rolled his eyes and promptly stole the bottle back, much to her dismay. 

"Of course _you_ wouldn't. You lack the proper physical anatomy." Taking a swig, he sighed contently and then offered it to the elezen, who accepted it and took a measured sip. Blinking, Urianger studied it and then took a second one, before offering it to the Warrior. "Besides, those whom find themselves to be physically female tend to be able to endure such a thing for longer. Though, of course, there are _variables_ that will alter or adjust such accordingly." 

"Man, for all that you got this for _me_, you certainly seem keen on drinking it yourself." Her tone was mildly teasing, some of the nervousness easing out of her frame as he huffed a quiet sound of amusement, both of them avidly watching as the elezen bit his lower lip and let his hand trail lower, massaging his own orbs. She shifted slightly, and took another sip. "So... How... How does something like this... Start? Groups aren't usually my _thing_."

"By voicing what you _want_, little Monster."

"Which begs the question. What is thy wish? Thou said there was but one singular chance to test the waters." 

"Yes, for all that I have a _great deal_ of information regarding what, precisely, the _elezen_ fantasizes about, is there anything _specific_ that you think might tickle your fancy?"

They were both looking at her, two sets of pale gold eyes that had her straightening slightly where she sat. She eyed first one, then the other, and stalled for a half-second by taking another swig from the bottle. 

"I want... Well, by all rights _Urianger_ didn't do anything wrong. So that means _Emet-Selch_ is still the one in trouble." The red of her face had nothing to do with the alcohol and was only partially related to how Urianger was smoothly palming himself still. "So that means that our elezen friend's suffering because of you. So _take care_ of him."

They both stared at her, before the Ascian started to carefully remove his coats. All eyes in the room settled on him as he draped them over the back of the chair, reaching for her to steal a lengthy kiss before settling on his knees at the edge of the bed. Lifting one gloved hand to his lips, he deftly tugged each of the fingers loose and then discarded it off to the side, repeating the process with the other as the elezen scooted forward so as to be within reach. 

The first thing she was struck by, was the faint almost rose-like scent in the air, which she presumed must have been from the oil. The next was that Urianger's low moan made something deep in her gut _clench_ as Emet-Selch ducked his head to lick the astrologian's shaft from root to tip, fingers wrapping about the length that bobbed slightly with the motion. His grasp slid smoothly back down, and his lips wrapped about the tip and then followed the slow, almost casual pace of his hand part of the way down. 

She squirmed slightly in her seat as Urianger's eyes partially lidded and settled on her. He lifted a hand, crooking a finger towards her as quiet, obscene sucking sound slowly filled the air. The Ascian's eyes shifted to follow her as she clambered up on the bed and leaned against the elezen, and she felt her breath catch as his cheeks hollowed slightly. 

"Oh. Oh that's..." She cleared her throat slightly, and lifted the bottle to take a swig and then offered it to Urianger. He accepted it, sipped and then offered it back as his hips shifted slightly. "... I am having... A _lot_ of thoughts." 

"All of them _good_ ones, I would hope." The Ascian drew himself up so that he could mutter the words and then swirl his tongue around the tip of the shaft, his free hand shifting to gesture towards the oil. He tipped it so that Urianger could pour a little bit into it, and he continued to lick and nose along the cock before him as he held his hands slightly to the side and briefly rubbed them together, making sure to evenly coat his fingers with the substance. One came back to cup the astrologian's balls, and Urianger sucked in a breath as he leaned back and sought a pillow, stuffing it under his lower back to lift his hips somewhat. 

The Warrior helped by passing him what he sought, taking a swig of the wine and continuing to watch as the Ascian shifted up enough to give the elezen room to do so.

One long, slender finger traced around the edge of Urianger's entrance, before slowly easing in, and both the elezen and the hyur's faces went right back to being red. The sight drew a chuckle from Emet-Selch as he continued to bob his head, which pulled a stifled, bitten-back moan from the astrologian. The sound was repeated, louder and rather less inhibited as the Ascian found what he was looking for and added a second finger, stroking internally each time he nigh fully engulfed the length he was working on, once, twice and then finally a third time as Urianger tensed, hips jerking. 

He slowly relaxed, and Emet-Selch finally pulled his head back up from where he had taken the elezen to the root and swallowed rapidly, licking his lips and deftly removing his fingers. All three of them were flushed, and the Warrior almost idly handed the bottle off to the astrologian before reaching out to haul the Ascian up for a demanding kiss. She could_ taste _Urianger on him, a faint bit of sweet and salty mixed with the remnants of the wine, and groaned quietly. 

"Well now, little Monster." The Architect's voice was a rough rasp, and he licked his lips once more as he watched her with a heavy lidded gaze, smirking at how her pupils were blown. "Now the _important_ question is whether you enjoyed the show."

"Shut up and _strip_ while I make sure Urianger isn't dead, Hades, and wash your hand while you're at it."

He leaned back and saluted as she released him, before pushing himself up and making his way to the vanity where the wash basin was located.

* * *

She sat between them on the bed, and together they passed the bottle of back and forth and divested her of one article of clothes after another. She kept the leather strip with the chunk of _his_ essence strapped to her forearm, but it wasn't long at all before she wasn't wearing anything else. The Ascian hummed thoughtfully as he emptied the bottle, set it aside and took up the next one. A snap of his fingers and the cork and seal vanished so that he could idly watch the way Urianger had ducked his head to capture one of her nipples and drag a groan from the Warrior. 

"Why _are_ you both so comfortable with each other naked, by the way? How did that happen in this mortal lifetime?" 

"Hades? Do me a favour?" She tilted her face towards him, and he leaned in to press kisses along her jawline and lips.

"Anything."

"Don't distract me with that while I'm trying to figure out the logistics of_ punishing_ you and _getting off_."

"If thou wishes _suggestions_ I could readily oblige." Urianger lifted his head, kissing along the side of her neck and chin as she collected the new bottle from the Architect and took a swig with a conversational hum. Emet-Selch traced one hand along the scar that Elidibus had given her as Zenos, smoothing his palm across the series of large splotches that were Eden Prime's addition to the many scars across her body, and nosed along her shoulder.

"Go for it."

"Part of his outfit was a red sash. The headboard has a particularly _sturdy_ crossbar, not that Emet-Selch is fool enough to break it without good cause. Thou art _quite_ proficient with knots." 

"Would you be okay with that?" She glanced at the Ascian, who thought about it and nodded. "Real quick though. I want something to make sure that nobody _actually_ gets hurt, yeah? I mean I've got a good grasp of what might be _too far_ with the Architect, but I still want to make sure." 

"A safe word, then." Emet-Selch shifted slightly, before rooting through his neat pile of clothes to recover the sash and offer it out as she passed the bottle of wine to Urianger. 

"And gesture, in the event that someone can't talk. Del'monte works as good as any for me, but do either've you have a preference?" She scooted reluctantly away from Urianger, who looked thoughtful. 

"A snap of the fingers seems apt, and I am heretofore otherwise disinclined to have a preference. What is your verdict?" The elezen offered out the bottle to the Ascian, who took it one handed as the Warrior tied the end of the sash about the wrist of the other hand. 

"Neither of these things is particularly offensive. Why Del'monte, however?" He glanced at her curiously as he laid back, stretching out and getting comfortable as she looped the scarf once around the crossbar and then started to tie it about his other wrist. The Warrior glanced at him, before coughing out a somewhat embarrassed laugh. 

"It's what I took as my surname when I realized I didn't have one and everyone kept asking. How's that, too tight?" She shifted slightly and held out a hand for the bottle, which Urianger promptly provided, both watching as he idly tested how much slack he had and shook his head. He had a few fulms of leeway, and wiggled his fingers as he gauged whether or not he was going to lose feeling in them. The elezen had been right. She _was _good at knots, and the fabric was comfortably snug without digging in. 

"No. 'Tis fine. I can see you have _quite_ a bit of experience, tying up wayward Garleans." He smirked at her and she snickered before offering him the bottle. 

"Last sip, then we're out 'less Urianger's got something hidden in the room." She held it steady for him as he curled and wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle, drinking the rest of it before she drew it way and leaned across him to set it atop the nightstand. He took advantage of how it settled her chest directly above his face and flicked his tongue out across the closest nipple. She sucked in a slight breath, before drawing away and playfully pushing his head back down against the bed. "You'll get your chance to touch soon." 

"I look forward to enjoying _thhnn~" _Eyes fluttering closed for a moment, he sucked in a breath as Urianger licked along his length. By the time he opened his eyes again, the elezen's mouth was wrapped about his shaft, and he bit back a groan, and then another one as the astrologian removed his mouth in time for the Warrior to seal her own lips around him and press downwards until he was tucked against the back of her throat, where she dry swallowed around him. "Oh. _Oh oh oh._"

She drew back up and hummed a chuckle around him as she did, which had his hips twitching slightly. They did so again when he felt an oiled finger circle the tight ring of muscle, and then slowly press inwards. A second mouth descended onto his sack, pressing and licking and he could feel Urianger's facial hair brushing slightly against the inside of his thighs. Tilting his head down, to watch for a moment, he licked his lips as he was pinned in place by the weight of their combined gaze. 

They were _watching_ him, just as he was _watching_ them, and she was smirking around him as the elezen slowly added a second finger. They both stuck to an almost tortuously slow pace, leaving him shifting and squirming until she laid her forearm across his hips to keep him still with the third finger. He almost reached to try and _touch_ her, until the sash restricted his movement and for all that he knew he could snap it in an instant... 

He didn't. 

She didn't _want_ him to, and that bound him more surely than anything. He was given a moment to catch his breath as Urianger drizzled a little bit of the oil along his own erect length, pulling the Warrior up so that he could kiss her hungrily. She smoothed one hand across the elezen's shaft, smearing the substance about it before drawing way to watch as he hooked his arms under the Ascian's knees and lined himself up. 

"Slowly." 

Warmth spread across his face and through his chest at her concern, and Emet-Selch couldn't help but smile slightly.

"At first, at least." 

Urianger inclined his head, and eased forward. One ilm, two, and then he drew back to start again, not quite pulling out entirely and drawing a quiet hiss from the Ascian. 

"_-Slowly-_ she says. As if I am made of _glass_-" He shut up abruptly as the elezen bucked forward, sending him sputtering and gasping even as they snickered and chuckled. 

"If you can manage to last five minutes, you can touch." 

An easy enough thing to do, he thought to himself, but Emet-Selch neglected to say that out loud. Instead, he hissed out a quiet sound at the astrologian's absence and then renewed presence and gathered his determination. It was made somewhat more difficult by the way Urianger was ever so slightly brushing against his prostate and then decided to, once he had fully hilted himself, roll his hips. It made the Ascian's back arch, and he shuddered as the Warrior kissed her way up his torso to nip and scrape her teeth lightly against the column of his throat. 

"Ohh, I've had an idea. Help me roll him onto his stomach." 

He could have whimpered at the sudden loss of _heat_, but didn't. Instead, he was as obliging as he could be, and got his knees under himself. The tip of Urianger's cock pressed against his entrance once more, and as the Elezen slowly rocked forward he groaned and rolled his hips back. And then paused, as the Warrior wormed her way under him and reached between them to rub him against her folds. He braced himself on his elbows, settled on either side of her face and ducked his head for a kiss even as, with the next thrust of the elezen behind him, he slid into _her_. 

She swallowed his moan, and one of her hands found his hair as both of Urianger's found his hips. A sharp tug jerked his head upwards, and he pressed his face against her forearm as the elezen started to thrust with more strength, grinding him down and into the Warrior below him, who in turn bucked her hips upwards and pressed him more firmly against the body behind him. 

"Three minutes to go." 

Oh, but he was _fucked_. He could have _lasted_ if it was just the elezen. Still, he started to mentally stutter his way through advanced equations even as the two of them worked to pull breathy moans from him. Urianger bent over him, pressing a line of kisses along his spine even as the Warrior lightly raked her nails along his back and set about kissing along the column of his throat and jaw. His breath came unevenly, and he curled and flexed his fingers as fought the urge to simply tear them free from the sash when the astrologian picked up the pace to veritably rut against him, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing loudly about them. It mixed with the quiet cursing of the rogue beneath him, and the growled out _names_ that fell from the elezen's lips. 

_One minute to go._

He couldn't help it. He was sandwiched between the souls of those he held above all others. Urianger nipped at his earlobe and the Warrior rocked her hips upwards, both of them grinding against him at the same time. 

He wasn't so much eased over the peak as he was forcefully shoved, and came with a howl that he muffled against her forearm as the elezen rutted against him in a brief frenzy before stilling, leaving the Warrior beneath him panting for breath and squirming until the astrologian slid a hand between them and brought her to completion by grinding the Ascian against her and rolling his thumb along her clit for a moment. 

Together, they remained in a pile before Emet-Selch tiredly tore the sash and muttered thickly to the elezen, who grunted and shifted back before flopping bonelessly to the right. He did the same, but went to the left. The Warrior shifted so that she could drape an arm about each of them and tuck them both against her sides.

"... Clean up in... In the morning?" 

Both men hummed varying notes of agreement, and she sighed contently as they all drifted off together.


	90. Improving relations: The Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from AuntAgony!  
'emet-selch entertains/babysits the twins and some manner of shenanigans ensues'

The Warrior had curled up to get some sleep in their makeshift camp, knowing that Zenos and the Black Rose were still far removed which left him to idly continue to pour over his gear with slow, practiced motions. Seated near the campfire as he was, he laid his sword across his lap and tried to ignore the stares he was getting from the female twin. At least the boy was content to sit with his back to a wall and pretend to read his grimoire, though he could feel the quiet, contemplative study all the same. 

It took half an hour for the silence to break. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't the boy. No, Alphinaud had the trained patience of an ambassador in the making. It was Alisaie that leaned forward, narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth as she spoke. 

"Whatever is it that she sees in _you_, I'll never understand."

"I fail to see how such is any concern of yours, little girl." Emet-Selch kept his tone bland as he smoothed a cloth across the blade, enjoying the way he could see his reflection in the metal. It was a good sword. Sturdy Garlean metal. Nothing fancy, but it would do in a pinch. "Nevertheless, if such is the topic you wish to raise I will give you a hint. The ability to counter most moves another Ascian might make against her _very closely_ resembles one of the many, many reasons." 

Not what he had wanted to say, but he had to remind himself that even among the fragmented people of the Source, the twins were yet children. Nearly adults, but not yet quite over the threshold. 

"You're _useful_ to her, yes. I know." Twin Two waved her hand, settling back and scowling. "But what does she _see_ in you." 

_My very soul. A future. Happiness. The things Sorcerers of Eld were wont to do with their hands in their spare time._ The Architect hummed idly, and said none of the handful of things that leapt to his tongue. Instead, he smoothly slid his sword into it's sheath and set it aside. "'Tis truly something you really ought to ask her sometime. I would be curious to know what her answer might be. Quite honestly I find myself more surprised that your brother has yet to leap to his feet and pester me with questions regarding history." 

"Such is not an easy subject to broach." Twin One glanced up from his grimoire, smiling faintly. "I _do_ have questions, but as we are yet waiting in the path of a madman and a weapon of untold potency I thought it best to keep them to myself." 

"I am _bored_. We have time. Ask away. They certainly beat attempts to question my relationship goals." Stretching his legs out, Emet-Selch felt he had steered the conversation appropriately until , just as Alphinaud opened his mouth to start to ask something, the girl spoke up again. 

"You're _dangerous_ is what you are." 

"Oh for the love of..." Lifting a hand, the armored Ascian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to sigh at the jealousy that flared through the girl.

"Ali, we talked about this." Alphinaud frowned and picked himself up, moving closer and plopping down beside his sister so that he could nudge her with an elbow. "Emet-Selch is currently an ally, and inviting strife so close to a major conflict is only going to weaken us in the long run." 

"It's true though." Alisaie's scowl deepened, and she folded her arms. Emet-Selch was faced with several options at that point. He could sass the girl, ignore her, incite her with inflammatory remarks... 

He glanced back at the Warrior, and once more reflected on how much she cherished the Scions. Heaving a sigh, the Architect hauled himself up and gestured a little bit further into the twisting canyon they were camped in.

"It is. I am an incredibly competent individual. However, I am also on _her_ side. You constantly measure yourself against her progress and she often tests herself against mine. Shall we?"

"What? You mean _fight_ you?" Twin Two narrowes her eyes, and even though her brother reaches to grip her shoulder she pushes herself up as the Ascian shrugs and continues. 

"My little Monster is your inspiration, is she not? She tends to find greater understanding of her foe through sparring and combat, as opposed to lengthy discussion. 'Tis not as if I _truly_ intend any of the Scions harm. Not any more, at the very least, and I find myself both bored and otherwise unengaged." Hefting his shield, he turned and started to amble off, and Twin One tugged lightly on Alisaie's sleeve. 

"Be careful." 

She nodded. They both knew he wasn't exactly talking about the sparring match she was walking into. 

* * *

The red mage found him roughly a hundred fulms away, around a bend with his sword drawn and hanging loosely at his side. She drew the rapier that Urianger had made for her, leveling it and stalking closer. 

"Don't think I'll go easy on you, just because Zenos is on his way."

"-Please-. You are as a leaf before the gale in my presence. I would be surprised if you managed anything more than a superfluous flesh wound against me." Lifting the shield, he tapped the sword against it as if to indicate he was ready and settled into a proper defensive stance. She lifted her other hand, setting her focus to float in mid air even as her eyes narrowed, studying him before gasping and rushing to the side as he surged forward, sword slowly sweeping through the air after her as she spun and stacked the focus above the rapier. 

She hadn't expected him to close the distance that quickly, and as he turned to start slowly walking towards her she couldn't help but think maybe he had been testing her somehow. Verfire rolled out wards towards him, and he waded through it without much trouble until a Verthunder followed hot on it's heels. Ahh yes, he thought to himself. Red magic. The focus was an accelerator, and they balanced themselves with both white and black mana until they had gathered enough to feed back through their physical bodies and enhance their melee combat capabilities. Which meant that the next spell was either going to be wind or unaspected-

He lifted his shield, tutting idly as a burst of wind briefly stalled his advance. He traced the way she had leapt backwards to resume casting, continuing to brace with his shield as several rather large rocks bounced off of it. Predictable. _Boring_. The fact that he could measure her aether and how much she had stored with her own spellcasting made it almost pitiably easy to predict what she was going to cast at him next. As if to prove his point, he sheathed the sword and sidestepped the next wave of fire. 

"Slow. Clumsy. However have you _managed_ to survive this long?" Exasperation flavoured his tone as he reached out to touch the incoming flash of levin, drawing it through the air, channeling it and then redirecting it off to his right where it thundered harmlessly into the stone. A surge of wind hit him, followed rapidly by a hail of stones and his sigh was interrupted with the way she had abruptly closed the distance. The first jab was caught with the shield and slid to the side. The first of the next three whiffed past as he leaned back, and she pursued him to bring the blade down on a diagonal, scraping it across the shield until she dropped and struck across his shins were. 

Or would have been, if he hadn't turned and shifted aside. She came back up, enhancement fading and expecting a counter attack and surging backwards to eye him warily. 

"You're not taking this seriously at all, are you Ascian."

"I could say the same of you, girl. I expected more, quite honestly, and 'tis not as if my standards were particularly _high_ to begin with." Huffing, he worked the shield free of his arm and tossed it to the side. "Your spellwork is sloppy, you are far too obvious with the movements of your casting and you are _incredibly_ slow with the transition. So _pay attention_, because I will only do this _once_." 

"What are you-?"

"_Pay attention." H_e stooped to pick up a rock, hefting it a few times before setting it to float over his hand as he drew his sword. "Red magic is a finicky concept in and of itself. Certainly, casting by utilizing the physical proximity of your focus to the blade is _useful_, but there is too much wasted movement between collecting it and setting it to float above your hand once more. Your _one redeeming feature_ is that you favour swordplay, and yet you hinder yourself by shifting back and forth between caster and melee combatant." 

He leveled his sword, eyeing her down it's length as she scowled at him. "This will get you _killed_." 

"It's how red magic _works!_ You think I would leave big holes in my own defenses on purpose?" Alisaie stomped a foot, before swishing the crystal rapier through the air as Emet-Selch rolled his eyes. 

"Red magic is a mix of melee and magic. So _mix_ them. You hold two foci. One of them conveniently shaped like a _blade_." A whisper of his aether across his sword lit the air around him, before flames roared to life and causing her to stare at it with wide eyes. "You need not even maintain anything more than the barest trickle of your own aether, and accelerated thus you would require even less. The initial casting should last perhaps fifteen seconds with the initial aether, which is more than enough for a flurry of blows. This should allow you to continue to build both black and white mana to physically enchant yourself and your next blows with." 

She remained silent for a moment, and then looked down at the crystal rapier in her gasp. 

"... Why are you helping me."

"We share a common cause." idly, he set the stone above his hand spinning in place, watching as it compacted inwards and faintly shimmered as the transmutation took hold to leave a chunk of amethyst in it's place the size of a thumb nail. "To support the Warrior of Light. The better the Scions can defend themselves, the less she needs must worry about you, and the more she can focus on her goals. Besides, 'tis not as though you are nearly as hostile as the midlander boy. I understand perfectly well where your concern stems from, after all. Such is the source of mine as well. Now then. _Again_."

She snapped her gaze up, pink across the face before she set herself and gathered her determination.

* * *

Alphinaud crept forward, and peered around the corner of the twisted canyon to watch. It was _too silent_, in his opinion, and considering his sister was involved that was generally bad news. It was part of why he was surprised to find them both working through a routine set of thrusts and slashes, chatting idly while he periodically dipped the sword to tap at her ankles and adjust her stance. 

"-_course_ such will feel ridiculous. But if you stand such not only will you give your opponent a smaller target to hit, but you will also be able to lean and twist out of the way faster. Your chosen style of combat lends itself to being struck even _less_ than my little Monsters." Emet-Selch's tone lacked venom, and Twin Two rolled her eyes but adjusted accordingly to stand largely sideways, looking towards the glowing chunk of gemstone that drifted and bobbed a few fulms away. "Your spacial awareness however is superb. This lends itself well to supplementary healing. Always pair this with your dualcasting." 

"I _know_ that. Now, how did you do pull the afterimages into being?" 

The Ascian huffed, slowly sweeping his longsword through the air as if it was a hand on a chronometer. Periodically, the outline of it pulsed with aether to leave behind an image that remained stationary, and Alisaie studied them intently for a long moment as he almost casually tilted his head towards where Twin One was trying to hide. "Are you going to simply gawk or do you intend to join us, boy?"

"I suppose I could. Everything went quiet, so I began to worry. You must truly be dedicated to our cause, if you would willingly put up with trying to teach my sister." 

"The secret to teaching her anything is to motivate with _spite_. The moment anyone tells the girl she cannot do something, success in her endeavor becomes her singular goal. You, however, seem as though you would be more of a praise-seeking individual." Emet-Selch sheathed his sword, leaving Twin Two's side so that she could stab and swipe through the air with a snort. 

"I do have a _name_ you know." 

"I am as of yet unconvinced you can survive long enough for it to be important enough to learn it." The Architect drawled back at her, making his way to where his shield lay so that he could stoop and scoop it up, strapping it to his forearm once more. "The boy shows promise, however."

"The boy also has a name." Alphinaud was smiling slightly as he crossed the distance, however. "I more imagine that it has to do with how Ascians tend to go by titles instead of names. You never use the Hero's, after all, instead ascribing her a title all for herself."

"And thus part of the reason the boy has promise reveals itself once more." Emet-Selch sounded mildly impressed as he idly stretched and then settled into his customary slouch once more. "I am _not_ going to teach you swordplay, however. This endeavor has sapped the last of my patience for such things." 

"The sword ill suites me anyways." Twin One waved a hand quickly, wincing. "I do have a question, however." 

"I suppose I could indulge such." 

"It has come to my attention that you fancy yourself something of an artist." Alphinaud smiled as the Ascian paused and straightened ever so slightly, contemplatively eyeing the male twin as the female stretched and lowered her sword, done with practicing for now. The three of them started to make their way back to the camp as the Architect tilted his head. 

"I do not know that I would fancy myself such, but yes. You _do_ tend to pick things up over the years. Why do you mention this? Does everyone know save from Thancred what happened?"

"I think Thancred knows too. I wouldn't count him out, considering how he is generally the go to when it comes to gathering information." Alisaie sheathed her blade, glancing over her brother's head to study Emet-Selch's reaction and smiling slightly as he huffed out an amused sound. 

"And to think, I credited him with a lack of restraint. 'Tis a wonder he has yet to hunt me down and _knife_ me, though such would be an exercise in futility. I may have underestimated him."

"I will admit, I never got the chance to see it. Would you be willing to show me? I am something of an artist myself, though until it was needed in Eulmore I didn't actually use it much. I realized how much I had missed it, however. Everyone knows of the challenges you and the Warrior of Light set each other, and I would offer you one as well." Lifting one hand as they reached the perimeter of the camp, Twin One raised his hand, pointing at the sky as he tucked the other one against his hip. "Whomever can draw the most realistic of whatever it is we agree upon across her face without waking her up, will be declared the winner." 

"Can you even approach her without rousing her?" One arched brow was quirked as Emet-Selch studied the boy, who nodded. "I did not think you the type to engage in such a thing."

"I am considering this as a trust-building exercise." Alphinaud lowered his hand, sizing up the slumbering form of the Warrior where she was sprawled out across the ground, silent and unmoving. 

"And we know what she drew on our faces." came Alisaie's addition, and the Architect huffed a sound of amusement. 

"If I win, I veto the necessity of using either of your names for a month."

"And if I win, you let me borrow a rare tome that I would be able to study." Twin one offered out his hand, and Emet-Selch inclined his head and shook it with his own. 

"Agreed"

* * *

The Warrior was _confused_. 

It wasn't the normal type of confusion either. Alphinaud was doing his best ambassador face, Emet-Selch had his head down and was working on cleaning his sword (which said something right there, normally he _stared_) and Alisaie was pressing her lips together as she idly poked the fire with a stick. 

"Okay...? Something happen while I was out?" 

"Things are occurring nigh constantly, little Monster. Unfortunately nothing earth-shattering passed while you rested, however." He lifted the sword, inspecting it, and the glint of sunlight across the blade briefly blinded her as she ambled over and watched his hands. 

Watched how he dragged a cloth across the mirror-like surface of the metal. 

_Watched the reflection of her own face as he turned the blade to inspect the edge._

She leaned forward, squinting and snagging his wrist to hold it still, tipping her face one way and then the other before a snicker broke out of Alisaie. It snapped the Warrior's head up and her focus over to Twin Two, who looked away. 

"You lil' shits." A grin crossed her face as she went to pull her water flask from her belt and fish a cloth out of a pocket. "You best start running, 'cause you got until I get this cleaned off and then your _ass_ is _grass_ and I'm the goat."

Both twins laughed, scrambling to their feet and taking off running. She turned back to find the space the Ascian had occupied conspicuously empty as well and snorted, shaking her head to sit down and use the sword he left behind as a mirror as she began working to get the long-dried ink off her cheeks.

"Whatever brought this on, I hope it was _worth_ it."

She didn't get an answer. Emet-Selch had taken the distraction the girl had unwittingly offered and made good on his own escape. Now, he was lurking invisibly atop the canyon and smirking as he tracked the aether of all parties involved. For all that it was largely abandoned, for all that they were _playing_, it wouldn't _do_ to have an accident steal the fun involved. Besides. He was starting to develop a _fondness_ for the children. 

Not that he would ever admit it out loud, of course.


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the happiest with the back half of this chapter, but am tired and it was stuff that needed to be noted as 'has happened'.  
Might expand on a few parts later. Might leave as is. Dunno yet

The Warrior woke up somewhat sore, and it was only partly because of the mild hangover hangover. There was a pleasant weight on either side of her, and a whole lot of legs tangled with her own. One of the weights was snoring softly in an entirely familiar way, while the other was simply silent. She swallowed dryly, realized she was _sticky_ and cracked both eyes open. A glance downwards revealed two heads of hair, one on each shoulder, and the Warrior sighed softly. 

_Now_ what was she supposed to do. 

It'd all seemed like a good idea at the time. Feo Ul certainly hadn't _helped_, which meant that she would have to call the fae back and sit down and have a _converfuckingsation_ with them. She was still _mad_, but... Not quite in the same ways. It had been a _shit_ way to go about it. Even the situation they were in wasn't the best. But they had all survived it, she was (largely) content with their combined presence, and she could think on it later. 

After her thighs stopped sticking to each other. 

Urianger twitched slightly, inhaled deeply and then idly smoothed his fingers along her ribs, idly tracing one of the scars there. "... Thou stayed."

"I promised clean up in the morning." She winced at how harsh that sounded, and his hand stilled against her hip. "... That... did not come out right."

"... Thou art still uncomfortable with the arrangement." 

"It's more I'm _embittered_ by how it came about, Uri. Something like that takes _time_ to fix. He knows what he did was wrong, and he knows _why_. And it _was_ wrong. Even if he was conditioned to crave that sort've stuff specifically because it was how a bloody big chunk've crystal kept him _leashed. _ I can't just..." She sighed, grimacing and wiggling her nose. 

"I understand. He needs must be re-taught the proper boundaries. Such is neither a no nor a never. That thou hath given me even a single night was more than I had hoped for." He tilted his head up, smiling faintly at her, and she winced once more. 

"It's not bloody fair to you. And I'm sorry for that. Seven hells, this is twelve kinds of awkward." 

"There is always hope for the morrow. I awaited thy presence for years upon the First. Thou wilt come to a proper conclusion 'ere long, as such is thy nature." Shifting carefully, the elezen propped himself up and pressed his lips gently against hers, drawing away after a moment with a soft sigh and patting her hip before working his way around the still softly snoring vessel. "Know too that should thou choose in favour of my absence, I shalt not hold such against you. I am as complicit in this as yon Ascian, for I lacked the resolve to speak thus upon the topic. I shall treat thee no different."

"I know. And believe you me, I'm not gunna _forget_ either of those things. This all basically has until I walk out that door, and then I gotta go find somewhere and think." She smiled slightly, before shifting to scoop the Emet-Selch up and follow the elezen into the bathroom. The Ascian mumbled quietly, looping his arms around her and sighing softly as he slowly roused. 

"... Late to the party, it seems. Did I miss anything?" 

"Nah. We just got up, and I promised clean up." She managed a slight smile as she watched the walk in tub start to slowly fill with water, blinking as his arms tightened about her shoulders. 

"... You are still upset, little Monster." 

"It can wait. You first, you took the brunt've most of that last night." The Warrior pecked a quick kiss against his lips before she waded down and sat on the ledge with him settled sideways on her lap. "... I should've done this last night, honestly." 

"T'was a communal decision to rest instead, I believe." Urianger stepped in and set a bottle of shampoo and some soap down within easy reach. Together, they soaped a few wash clothes and between them, the Ascian was the first to find himself clean. He was left to lounge near by and watched as the elezen tried to start on the Warrior only to get tugged down beside her so that she could scrub his back down. "I can-"

"Can. But won't. I feel bad. So I'm at least going to do this." She managed a small smile, and eventually finished before grunting as the Ascian tugged her back against him and plucked the cloth from her grasp. "Hey-"

"_Your_ turn." 

She grumbled, but stayed largely still, pinking slightly across the face. Urianger waded out of the tub to go and collect towels, setting them within easy reach before excusing himself from the bathroom with a murmur of 'tea'. 

"... Do you hate me?" 

She hummed at the soft words behind her, carefully thinking about them for a moment as his fingers gently worked a lather through her hair. Did she hate him? No. That wasn't it. Not at all. So she gently shook her head. 

"Nah. Hate's not right. Hate means I want to hurt you, or that I don't want you to be around. Am I unhappy? Yes. Am I upset? Yes. Are these things your fault? Also yes. Do I know what the seven hells to do about it? No. But I'm sure something'll come up, or it'll work itself out. Earning forgiveness isn't an overnight thing, we both know this. But it's not like I want you to not _be_ here." She tipped obligingly to the side so that he could start rinsing the lather out of her hair, face turning to study his expression. Tired still, those dark rings around his partially lidded eyes back with a vengeance and his lips pulled slightly down at the corners in the barest hint of a frown. Those expressive brows of his were faintly furrowed, though they eased somewhat as she lifted a hand to cup the side of his face. "Y'know for such a smart man you can be really _dumb_ sometimes."

"'Tis a contrast to the incredibly intelligent moments _you_ manage to somehow produce, for all that you proclaim to be, what was it that you said - dumb as a sack of rocks?" Turning his face slightly to press his lips against her hand, Emet-Selch finished rinsing the soap out of her hair and sighed, righting her across his lap. "... What is to be done about this?" 

"I'm gunna go out on a limb and guess you mean Urianger." She grimaced faintly as he nodded and otherwise stilled, studying her and the way her aether twisted and curled. "Honestly? No clue. Probably ignore that it happened as I work my way through how I feel about it. Am I going to look you in the eye and tell you that I never want it to happen again? Nnnooo, because that was..." 

She pinked slightly across the face, and cleared her throat, which had the Ascian trying not to smirk and failing for a moment. "Yeah. That was... That was a _thing_. I didn't know if I could share you or not, but I mean apparently? Even though the idea of anyone else touching you makes me want to cleave into them like I did Elidibus?"

He tipped his head in a slight nod, and they sat in silence for a moment before she heaved a sigh. 

"C'mon. Let's go get some tea and then get on with our day."

Emet-Selch nodded slightly once more, and followed her out of the tub.

* * *

"Warrior." 

She paused in the hall, glancing back and blinking as Kel'louch drifted closer. The Architect leaned down to murmur softly into her ear and she nodded in response before he turned and resumed his walk back to their rooms without her. 

"'Eyo. What's your boggle?" 

"How many other facilities have a barrier system such as this one?" Clasping his hands behind his back, he studied her as his hair drifted about him in a cloud, curling about his elbows. The Warrior frowned, tilting her head. 

"There's a few I can think of off the top've my head. One giant wall across the Burn, there was one at Castrum Meridianum..." 

"We crellbron specialize in circle casting and channeling. In working together, in adding our efforts together and achieving something beyond the sum of our total parts. We may be able to mitigate a strike from the stars if we could but have access to this... Technology. I will need a list."

"Then go and get one?" She paused, before laughing idly and rubbing the back of her head as he stared at her. "Oh, _oh no_. I just- Heh, nevermind. Okay, so when Lahabrea gets back, ask him to take you to the Rising Stones. From there, talk to Tataru, and tell her that I want her to get you in touch with Gaius. He should be able to tell you more about where the crellbron can find these things. Can any of you talk at a distance to the others?"

"We have our ways of passing messages along. Generally twenty five words at a time. I will wait for the Dark-touched lizard-kin then." Turning, he started to drift away until she called out to him. 

"Hey, Kel'louch. Did you... Ever have anyone that was always predisposed to helping or protecting you? With a habit of lying or keeping secrets?"

He turned slightly to study her with the crystal eye, and nodded once. "I did. This was... Many years ago, however. Why do you ask?"

"No real reason." A shrug was offered to him, and she turned to amble away with a wave. "Remember! Lahabrea to Tataru, then Tataru to Gaius!"

Two blue eyes were narrowed at her, before he shook his head and resumed drifting through the halls.

* * *

"When Elidibus gets back, I'm gunna ask him to take me to the Ninth. Should only take a few hours, but I want to look for Pashtarot. Will you be good to stay here and sleep?" The Warrior glanced up from where she sat on the rug, playing with a nine by nine coloured cube, trying to get all the faces to match. The vessel on the couch hummed inquisitively before nodding. 

"I did say I would stick to defense for the time being. Please be careful. The Ninth was tipped towards poison-based aether, which led to much of the shard becoming uninhabitable. Suffice to say, unfortunately I do not know much more about it other than that. Nabriales was in charge of that one." A gloved hand idly flicked towards her, and they both lapsed into a comfortable silence as she worked on the cube in her hands. She had sprawled onto her back nearly a bell later only for Emet-Selch to hum tiredly and rouse himself. 

"... They return. Fortunately, neither seems to have sustained any damage." 

"Finally!" She rolled and put her feet under her, making her way over to the Ascian before leaning down to press a light kiss against his cheek. Drawing away, she idly stretched and made for the door, tucking the cube away for later. A short jaunt through the halls later, and she was outside of the Emissary's rooms, door opening to reveal him picking through a backpack with a long-haired, blond Ascian standing nearby. 

She _knew_ that silhouette. 

"Well, look who's roughly six fulms tall again. Tired of being Tataru's temporary target?"

"More 'no longer necessarily nettable and noticeably not for nose-boops'. You are as _annoying_ as ever, Eschaton." Lahabrea turned, gold-silver eyes narrowing. "Where is Emet-Selch? We have his property." 

"In a time out in his rooms. Kel'louch needs to talk to you, by the way. Hey! Elidibus, feel up to a jaunt to the Ninth?" The Warrior flashed a grin over at the Emissary, who managed a small smile in return. 

"I suppose I could muster such. Speaker, will you return these to the Architect?" The pack was offered out, and Lahabrea growled before accepting it and slinging it over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"I have more _important_ things to do than lug around someone else's effects, but if this thing needs must be done then so be it." He shook his head, making his way to the door and reaching up to ruffle the Warrior's hair on the way by. "Be careful, Eschaton."

"Never. Alright. You ready to go?" 

Elidibus lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "Of course. Travel through the void tires me less than the others. Shall we head to the closest point?" 

"'Course. Lead on."

* * *

They hurt. More than that, they hungered. They had already glut themself on everything and anything they could, but there was more coming, and they had a job to do and every change and adjustment they had made had taken a toll. They needed time to digest what they had in their gullet, before they would be properly useful again. Until they could do that?

They were the distraction, the Devourer, and so they hauled themself out of the mud and reared up, maw opening to bellow out a challenge. The very ground churned with voidkin, before they turned and started to run. Six limbs worked in tandem, surging them across the flats before they met the edge of a large lake. They surged up, sucked in a breath before diving in.

It was a dense, salt-based liquid that they slid into easily and went deep, curling through the pink liquid before they found the cave simply by virtue of knowing where it was in the blinding, movement-restricting mass. A curve, a curl and then a kick from their latter four limbs sent them surging out into a submerged cave and splattering onto the pathway-

Something groaned. They came to an abruptly halt, spinnining around with their elongated maw open to orient on the body and-... Paused. Frontal fangs folded in, and their maw closed. Nosing around, they caught the scent of a voidkin, but it was... Different. And there was blood. And there was something familiar about it's spirit-scent. Themself? Impossible. This was the first of this void-kin they had encountered.

But...

Hmm. A think to be thought later. The maw tilted, scooping sideways to delicately enfold the bleeding voidkin before they turned and surged down the hallway once more.

Behind them, more voidkin were pouring into the tunnel that they had finally discovered, and gave chase.

It was nightfall when they managed to make their way back to their pack. By then, the voidkin in their crop had largely stopped moving and they had started to get worried. So when they finally met up with the felixi they rumbled, opened their maw, and spat it out as gently as they could before mrowling for attention.

"Is that-? A voidkin?" Feline ears flicked as the closest gasped, and then stared at them. "No! No you're supposed to kill them, not heal them!"

"Diffn't." Speech was hard when their mouth was two and a half fulms long and a fulm and a half wide. Their neck-pouch thrummed and expanded as they tilted their head and dipped their nose, nudging the voidkin gently. The movement roused a pained hiss as it moved, and they let their crest flare upwards.

"I thought... Well. Alive." The voidkin slowly sat up, before dropping a hand to their stomach and grunting.

They rumbled, the sound thrumming through the air. "Nyoo doon he'a?"

"... Ah. Did you save me, then?" the voidkin started to try and push themself to their feet before the Devourer's forelimb came out and pressed them back down, a threatening growl resonating through the air as they leaned down to bring one eye in close to its face.

"Ahnsa."

"I should start at the beginning. I am Pashtarot." The voidkin winced, one hand pressed to its stomach as the lizard-like creature shifted to the side and sniffed, great nostrils flaring while a sense of listening filled the air. "I came here, to learn what the Ascians intend with the voidsent. I was attacked, and fled as best I could."

"Void? Izz voidkin. Enemy." They sat down, tail flicking around to coil across their third and fourth talon-laden limbs, the first and second folding while their assorted fins and crests flexed. The felixi nearby gathered, keeping close to them and whispering among themselves, and the voidkin shook his head as he watched the aether of the odd lizard-like creature cringe.

"I was. Once. No more. I fight them now. My wounds are... Far from healed. But I thank you for my life. How did you do this thing?"

They beamed, suddenly pleased, rows upon rows of serrated teeth visible before they turned their head to the side and spat. "Crrrop."

"Their saliva contains healing properties. Why would you fight them? You're... You're -one- of them." One of the felixi stepped forward, adjusting their grip on their spear as they leveled it at the voidkin. Pashtarot shook his head.

"By the grace of Hydaelyn, I was freed."

"You lie-"

"Nrrmn. Nae. Doez na. Troof." The Devourer nodded slowly, muzzle still going through the slight alterations that would turn it from a weapon to something they could speak properly with. "Voidkin Peshtarrrot. We help. You? You heal. You take. To this."

They curled, bony ridged plates along their back clicking quietly as they started to sketch a shape in the mud. Three flanges on either side. Two that came down under the under edge and slightly curled. Three lines apiece, under two triangluar sections that held a star within each. A pattern of geometric shapes were centered along one edge, and the creature plapped a paw down next to it.

"Take pack. Take to them. Take to be safe. Not voidkin. Ass-ee-an. Takes to twin-fang. To Harbinger."

"Harbinger?" The voidkin tilted it's head slightly, and the Devourer puffed out it's chest proudly.

"End-bringer. Eskhaton. Hunter. Herald. Doom-bringer. Transition."

Pashtarot winced, and looked down at its chest. "It will take time for me to heal to the point where I may do this thing."

"Then heal. I am Devourer. I? Keep pack safe."

They beamed again, and it was all teeth.

* * *

"Go."

Pashtarot blinked, glancing over at the strange creature. It was roughly fourteen feet long, including the tail is what it was. Six legged, with a veritable fan of multi-hued fins that flexed and expanded as it rumbled, with a pelican-like gullet that hung under the large, fanged maw. Blue-green scales sheathed it, aside from the white line of spiked plates of bone that ran the length of it's spine, right down to the tip of it's tail. Two blue eyes stared down at him, and he couldn't help but liken it to some manner of rudimentary dragon with an underbite. Together, they had managed to keep it's 'pack' safe from the way voidsent were flooding the Ninth, but there was simply nowhere else to run. He wasn't strong enough to bring all of them with him, and it was just him and the self-proclaimed Devourer between the sundered, tempered Ascian's forces and the two hundred souls left on the shard that were huddled in the cul-de-sac behind them. It fanned it's frills out, before gesturing back towards the others. 

"Go. Save all Peshtarrrot can." 

The Ascian frowned, dropping his hand down to his chest. He could bring... Ten. Perhaps twelve people with him, in the state he was in. Thirteen if he really pushed it. Zodiark, but what he wouldn't give to have Elidibus there...

Familiar aether flickered across his own, and his head came up in disbelief. A short way out, the air rippled as the sundered, tempered Ascians attempted to prevent a rift from opening, before the sky _split_. Two figures dropped down out of it, one catching themself mid-air and hovering as the other simply continued to plummet. The former circled, weaving to avoid the handful of spells that started to flash upwards, the sky darkening with the wings of those that could fly as they converged on the new arrivals. 

A cloud of darkness expanded outwards to darken the sky as the other figure impacted against the ground with a thud, and then the mass before them erupted into the chaos of an overturned anthill. 

A ripple of darkness formed beside him, and Elidibus stepped out as he brushed part of his white robes off.

"That will not confuse them for very long. It is good to see you yet number among the living, Champion."

"Emissary." A polite, if surprised nod was offered, before the sundered Ascian looked back out to the chaos before them while a scaled muzzle loomed over them both, sniffing at Elidibus. 

"You. You... Mrmn. Here to save? Save. Save _them_."

"Of course." A polite bow was offered to the lizard-like creature, before the Emissary hummed softly. "... I see. This is the last of them, then." 

"Yes. All gone. All here." The Devourer tapped their crop idly, before rumbling and looking out at the shouting, shrieking crowd that curled inwards as, faintly, cackling rose over the din. "Star-eyed Ender. Good."

"I cannot take all of them in one trip. I will have to come back. Can you aid her, in providing a distraction?" Elidibus turned towards those that huddled in the cul-de-sac, pausing to glance at the six-legged lizard that rumbled and fanned out their crests, muzzle popping and cracking as it altered to become less useful for speaking and more oriented towards teeth and fangs and tearing things in half. 

"Yez."

* * *

The Warrior danced and spun madly, weaving between succubi and imps and cleaving as she went. They were as wheat before her blades, and she carved a path across the muddy ground even as she used the temporary corpses of the fallen as stepping stones to avoid sinking. A tickle of pain flashed across her awareness, before it abruptly ended and one of the larger gargoyles abruptly jerked to the side before a fanged maw closed about it's upper half and tore it in two. 

She didn't dare stop, so she simply danced around whatever it was that was now clawing a hecteyes into gore-laden, spongy ribbons. 

"Ztarrr-'eid Enderrr! Ve arrre du avay!"

"Lead, then?" She dropped down under a scythe before a thick tail swiped across and cleared the space around them. Her unusual assistant swiped across with a forelimb, catching her delicately and hauling her onto it's back before going into a full on trampling charge. 

Elidibus and Pashtarot stood by a rift, maintaining it, through which Emet-Selch and Lahabrea emerged. The former raised one hand and snapped, pulling a rippling barrier about the four of them while the latter raised one hand and swept it out wide, sending a line of ice out towards them before it abruptly burst upwards and split, the impromptu wall falling outwards in two halves to crush down atop the voidsent and open a temporary path through them. 

Her unusual steed took advantage of it, surging ahead and picking up speed before reaching the barrier and passing through as if it was naught but air. 

"Ten minutes, little Monster. You have been here for _ten minutes_!"

"Bicker later." The Speaker helpfully suggested as he reached out to haul Emet-Selch towards the rift, and the Warrior laughed easily as they all passed through and staggered out onto a balcony. Dripping with gore, she did a quick headcount and then reached over to gently nudge the visibly exhausted Architect with an elbow as he caught his breath, hands on his knees and head bowed. 

"You alright?"

"Elidibus came through with _refugees_ and said you were buying them time." 

"Way to not answer with if you're about to fall over or not. Lahabrea?" 

"They tried to close the rift on us as we passed through. Elidibus is stunned for the moment, but will be fine. Pashtarot?" The blond Ascian turned to study their injured companion, who was leaning against a wall and waving one hand. 

"Injured, but not in critical condition. Did Halmarut make it with our warning?"

"He did. You did well. Thought we'd lost you." The Warrior ambled over to nudge the Champion with an elbow. "Try not to scare us again, yeah? We would've come sooner but I wanted to make sure Elidibus wasn't going to die and let him go off to the Thirteenth's moon first to see how well he'd manage." 

"Ztarrr-'eid Enderrr." The creature that had helped her called softly, and the Warrior turned to finally, _finally_ study it with a smile and a nod. 

"Hey. Thank's for your help. You are...?" She blinked as it puffed it's gullet out, fins and fans flaring out to make it seem bigger.

"Scentkin." 

She nodded, despite not knowing what, exactly, that meant. Instead she beamed and spread her arms, ignoring the way oily black blood dripped against the floor. 

"Alright. Well, welcome to Azys Lla."


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note. I did not, in fact, play ffxiv 1.0, so all I have to go on are the cutscenes.  
Really, all that means though is I get to -play- with things a bit more : D  
Shea's prompt chapter: The Scion's first reactions!  
Plus extra scene at the end  
It felt right to include it.

Priscilla, at the tender age of twelve, hustled through the office as quickly as she could and clamped onto the edge of the large vase, hopping up to start pulling herself into it-

And paused. 

Eyes stared back out at her, almost as terrified as her own. Her mind scrambled, before footsteps stomped up the wooden stairs outside. The hands reached up and hauled her into the large vase, and together they squished down and breathed as quietly as they could. They recognized each other. How could they not? Belonging to rival rat-packs, they were probably there for the same reason. The sea charts, that would fetch a pretty penny for whatever pack sold it to the highest bidder. 

_The sea charts that were stuffed down the front of his pants_, she realized, and her fingers twitched as the door slammed open. Drunkenly singing, the captain staggered in and plopped down, and they both waited patiently, silently, staring at each other in the vase. When they heard the captain finally trail off and start snoring, they both cautiously clambered out and tiptoed from the room to the window, and then down the side of the ship. Each of them warily watched the other as they swam back to the dock and clambered up, sprawling out. 

She recovered faster than he did, and before he could sit up she had a knife tucked up against the underside of his throat. 

"Gimme." 

"No! I need them!"

She muddled over that for a moment before leaning in and hissing at him. "Then we splits them, 'Cause you used my distraction to sneak in before me! I saws you!" 

"Splits? No! I gotta-"

They both smiled and giggled at the roe that ambled past, her arm around his neck to cover the knife before she dropped her voice once more. 

"If we splits the charts, then Mufflenudder's gotta pay both've us for 'em. Then, we all get paid and eat." She beamed at the ash blond boy, who muddled through her thinking and pouted. Still, he reluctantly pulled the charts from his pants, and held them by the top edge...

She had _always_ been fast. 

She snagged them by the bottom, hauled all of them out of his grasp and took off running. She lost him largely by dipping into a crowd and then going over the edge of a platform, tucking up into the scaffolding under a bridge. Sea charts rolled up and stuffed into her shirt, she settled in to balance and nap until she was sure that the boy was nowhere in the area. Her heist was successful, and she collected her earnings before starting to scrounge through the city to find him again. 

She told her friends that Mufflenudder had haggled her down, which wasn't unheard of, and divided her spoils among them while keeping a larger share for herself. They parted ways as the sun started to come up, and she knew she only had a little bit of time before she had to get back home to her Da. Still, she had to at least try even if it made her late and got her yelled at. 

She found him, sitting on the dock and miserably swinging his feet out over the water. There was blood on his face, and as he wiped at it with his sleeve she sat down beside him. He looked pointedly away until she dropped a pouch of gil in his lap. 

"I'm sorry you got hurt."

He hefted the pouch, opening it to confirm the contents and then looking over as she hauled herself up and ran off. 

"Wait!"

But she was gone. 

* * *

When she had heard the Garleans were looking for an ancient sorcerer that used dark magics, well... She _had_ to find him before they did. There were too many rumours about the man for her _not_ to. 

Fortunately, she had a lot of practice by that point, finding people who didn't want to be found. She had a loose general location to go through, and that was good enough for her. The Warrior always did work best alone, after all, considering they were still trying to figure out a way to help her with the Echo. She even left behind the elezen they stuck with her, sneaking away while his back was turned at their camp. 

Searching for someone was different in mountainous terrain than it was in a city, though there were certain traits that carried over. Namely watch footing, don't forget to look both up and down, and don't trust a shingle or in this case rock to be sturdy or loose simply by how it looked. She had already just about rolled an ankle when what she had thought was a solid flat piece of rock had decided to give out from under her. 

Sneaking about rocks and dirt was similar to cobblestone too, if looser. Still, she had practice from the cliffs of La Noscea. And, she was looking for someone that was by all accounts not exactly well versed in scaling mountains. That narrowed down the places this evil sorcerer would be hiding. 

Still, hours passed and she was starting to re-evaluate her options. She had climbed everything she could. She had investigated every nook and cranny, and-

The rock under her hands was _remarkably_ smooth. 

The Warrior stared at it, before dragging her hand back towards her and blinking as it went from smooth to gritty. Sliding her hand back out helped her find the seam, and she carefully followed it down to the ground to find that the entire section was uniform in texture. Clearing her throat, she stepped back and scrubbed a hand across her mask. 

"Hey, so uhh... I've... I've been sent by Loiusoix. And, uhh... Are you the evil sorcerer guy? Did I find a lair?"

She stared, before a section rippled. A hand stuck out of it, beckoning her before vanishing once more, and she slowly eased through the section it had appeared from. Inside the oddly shaped dome was a cozy little camp, and she was thankful for the mask that covered her face as she stared. 

A tent, a small smokeless fire, and carpets that covered the ground. A few crates sat nearby, filled with supplies and as she turned around to peer back the way she had come she was treated to the sight of a faintly shimmering barrier and translucent image of rock that covered the entire thing. Turning back to the tent, she blinked as an elezen unfolded out of it and drew himself up to his full height. 

White and grey plain robes. Sandals. A staff within easy reach. He supported one elbow with one hand as the other came up to partially cover his mouth, studying her through goggles set under the hood that was pulled far enough forward that they were barely visible. 

"Louisoix sent thee?"

Ugh. _Great_. He was one of _those_ types. Her expression was thankfully still hidden, and she cleared her throat once more. 

"Yeah. We, uhh... We need yo-thou's help. Eth. Helpeth us. Please?" 

The elezen stared at her for several long seconds, before he turned back and ducked into the tent. She waited for the count of ten before ambling over and pulling back the flap to peer in after him, sighing in exasperation as he picked up a book and-

_(He ducked into the tent, looked towards the entrance and pursed his lips. _

_"Tell mine mentor that I shalt make the journey to the camp he resides within upon the morrow."_

_And then he was turning back towards his bedroll, and the tent flap opened.)_

-calmly sat there, idly reading and utterly ignoring her presence. 

"... Y'couldn't just, y'know. Say that to my face?" 

The elezen turned the page of his book, and she sighed before turning around and heading back out through the ripple.

* * *

Priscilla thought she was going to be _sick_. She did _not_ like boats, for all that they were a necessary thing. What made it worse, was that there had just been wave after wave after wave of aurelia that had attacked much of the crew before swarming away. 

She clung to the mast, shuddering as the last of them swept off the ship. Of course, that led her to question _why_ they were fleeing. It wasn't as if they had _killed_ a number of them. Not really. They may have thinned them a bit, but-

_"Brace!"_

She stared as the biggest monster she had ever seen hauled itself out of the water, fins splaying and fanning the air as it arched over the ship. The head hit the water, and it continued for longer than she would have liked before it's tail raked across the deck. She turned towards the closest person, shoving them down before catching the blow across the back. 

She woke up in Limsa Lominsa, in a room in the inn with a white-haired miqo'te dozing on a chair nearby. Lifting her hand to her face, she realized she was missing her mask, and her eyes widened as she searched her immediate area for it. It was a few fulms away. She leaned, reached, and snagged it as the miqo'te's head came up. 

_Nonono-_

_(The miqo'te dove overboard, pulling Priscilla back to the boat, hauling them both up to splay the very dead body out across the planks. She stared, before her jaw dropped when the rogue siezed and coughed out a double-lungful of water and then went still. Breathing, alive, but unconscious. _

_She was hauled into a set of quarters. Time passed. The ship reached Limsa Lominsa, squirreled away as the miqo'te pondered about how a dead woman could come back on her own.)_

"-Echo? How is this...? Please, you must come with me." She was smiling, before she laughed softly. "I should start at the beginning. I am Y'shtola, and I am a member of an organization called the Path of the Twelve. We study the Echo. I had heard of someone in the area with it, but to think it would have been you...!"

"Not interested-"

"You have frequent flashes of it, don't you? Don't you want to lessen those? Learn how to control them?" Y'shtola smirked at the hesitation that went through the rogue, before the mask was pulled into place. 

"... Everything's gotta price."

"This one's only working for the greater common good. So what do I call you?"

The rogue grimaced. 

* * *

They sat at a table in the Quicksands in Ul'dah, both of them drinking tea while she sipped something that burned and tasted bitter. She hadn't really looked, and the gil she had splayed across the counter had covered it and secured her a second later. They watched her, and she watched them. 

"Y'shtola told us about your difficulty with the Echo. I am surprised you would willingly enter the crowd." Twin One smiled at her. It was a soft, gentle expression, and it suited him as he lifted his tea to take a sip. 

"'S what the booze is for."

Twin Two leaned back slightly, nose wrinkling. "Twelve above, how do you _function?_ You literally wafted in and-"

"-Our miqo'te friend also mentioned how alcohol helps you mitigate your Echo." Alphinaud subtly kicked his sister under the table, smile intact. "If there is anything we can do to help, please, let us know." 

"Dunno what that means. Not here f'that, either." The rogue shrugged, before gesturing to the two of them with one hand. "I'm sh'posed to help you. So tell me. What's the problem." 

"Right to the point. Well, I suppose the less time we spend do-ow!... Dithering, the more time we have to work." Alisaie shot her brother a glare, and he set his tea down with a quiet click. 

"Well, honestly, there are a lot of little problems. First, however, we need to get you to the Waking Sands so that you can have a partner assigned to you. From there, you and your companion will head to Gridania, where we have heard rumours of the Greenwrath going rampant. We would like your aid with this, if at all possible."

"An' what're you t-hic!-... Gon' do in th'meantime?"

Twin Two gave her brother a _look_, and he brushed it off. 

"Information gathering. There are yet troubles in Ul'dah that may need our touch, and we will keep you abreast of the situation as best we can. Once you reach the Waking Sands, however, you will receive a linkpearl. This should help us keep in touch." Alphinaud leaned back in his chair, though whether from her breath - barely mitigated by the mask - or from the overall smell of her (it had been a long walk, and it wasn't as if there were baths along the way when you avoided civilization) though he was polite enough to keep his smile in place. He produced a folded piece of parchment and handed it to his sister, who grimaced and slid it across the table to the rogue who picked it up and stared at it. 

"This should get you to the front door. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but don't lose it. We're an organization that tends to work best from the shadows and the less people know about us the better." 

"Right. Y'tellin' me 'don't get caught'." Priscilla pushed herself up and downed the rest of her drink, swaying slightly. "M'kay. G'bye."

The twins exchanged a concerned look before they both watched the rogue make it to the door and out into the dark night. 

* * *

The breeze was nice up there on the roof. She tipped her mask up just enough to enjoy it against her face before she heard someone hauling themself clumsily over the edge of the roof. The mask came back down, and she turned her head to measure the distance and cringed, knowing she was too close-

... But nothing happened, beyond a gangly looking elezen thaumaturge with his robes hiked up high enough to reveal his knees hauling himself up and then sprawling out, trying to catch his breath. Dark hair pulled back in a loose tail, pale skinned and possessed of a smattering of freckles across his face. Slowly, he rolled and peered up at her, studying her even as he carefully pushed himself up and brushed himself off.

"Hello, Adventurer. Quite the climb."

She didn't say anything, prepared, -ready- for the way her head would start hurting and a glimpse of the past would flash across her eyes. Both remained curiously absent as her guest very carefully picked his way up the roof to draw closer, until he was a few fulms away and carefully seated. Politely, he cleared his throat, smiled easily and then rubbed the back of his head as he looked away. 

"I'm... I'm Daxton. We're to work together for the time being." 

The rogue glanced about, before staring at this curious individual that... She was fine around. There was no twinge, no oncoming headache, no flicker in the air as her vision failed. 

"... Hi?"

"Your name is Priscilla, isn't it." Another easy smile was turned towards her, before he cleared his throat once more and smiled sheepishly at her. "I heard that you like alcohol. Why don't we go down to the bar? We can trade stories." 

"I... I guess?" 

Her answer seemed to please him, and reddish-brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked back towards the edge of the roof and faltered. "... I... I might need some help getting down."

"... Here. Lemme show you." She pushed herself up, moving cautiously, expecting to get beaten about the senses by a memory that was not her own and pointing to one part of the roof. "I'll go down first. You're buyin', right?"

Daxton smiled at her, before following the line of her finger. "Miss, if you get me back down off of this roof without breaking my neck, I will buy for the whole _night_."

"I get th'feelin' we're gonna get 'long just _fine_. C'mon then."


	93. Chapter 93

He showed her his City of the Dead. She had no choice but to one-up him. Really, there wasn't anything she could do about it. At least, what she had in mind, he might _understand_, which was more than what she could say for the rest of them. 

Them. Why did it always come down to _her_ and _them_. Eschaton shrugged the thought off and loped through the woods. Her nose picked up his scent cleanly, easily, which meant she was gaining and, if he was walking, might even catch him before he got to the cabin he had built on the cliff. The only thing that gave her pause was a slight sense that it was _off_ somehow. 

Ears perking and flicking, she put her head down and picked up speed. The thudding beat of four paws against loam thundered through her, and a short bark had the rest of her pack stopped trying to keep pace with her. It wasn't long before she could feel his aether, and would have barked to get his attention save for the fact that the wind shifted and her attention was drawn by the way there were _other_ scents with him. 

Her pace slowed, and she nigh silently shifted closer. Ears perking, she caught the edges of sounds and circled to remain downwind more out of habit than anything as she listened. Her lips peeled back from her fangs at what she heard. 

"-neglecting your role as the Architect!" That was Lahabrea's voice. She would recognized it anywhere. She pressed lower, weighing the knowledge of her secrets against simply mauling him. Her ears flattened in resignation as she settled low behind a tree and shrub, watching through the leaves and blinking as she noted it wasn't just Lahabrea. "And now, when I finally figure out why, it's to learn you are going camping out in the middle of nowhere? You are a member of the Convocation!" 

"I _do my job_. What I do with my free time is _mine_ to decide Speaker."

"We know, that you are meeting with the Eschaton." Elidibus sounded mildly apologetic, and she stifled a huff. That spelled trouble. He would follow the actual rules, which would lead into the terribly complicated things with her Enforcers. 

A little voice whispered in the back of her head, wondering if she had erred and she squashed it as she watched and listened, trusting the Architect. 

"Am I? I was under the impression I was going to a cabin in the woods for some _privacy_." Emet-Selch adjusted his pack, before scowling as the Speaker stepped forward and folded his arms. 

"Then look me in the eye, you who are _burdened_ by the truth, and tell me that you never -ever- meet with her in these woods."

Persephone held her breath. Hades didn't even hesitate. 

"I do _not_."

There was silence for a moment, as both Lahabrea and Elidibus leaned forward to watch him as he folded his arms. 

"Happy now? I am _leaving_." Turning, Emet-Selch started to pick his way through the trees, and she silently circled the other two and watched as he walked for ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty, and he paused by a tree and started to shake. Twenty five, and he was blessedly out of sight of the other two even as he staggered and thirty by the time she had made it to him. She could smell the blood in the air, and she didn't trust him to be able to hold on. 

Eschaton opened her maw and delicately caught him between them, before turning and bolting silently through the woods. She didn't bother going to the cabin. If Elidibus and Lahabrea were going to follow up with him, they would look for him there. Instead, she turned towards the east and sacrificed stealth to pick up speed. Black furred forms flit between the trees to join her, silently adding their strength to her own. It was farther to the outpost, but it would be _safer_ there. 

Worming her way under the roots of an ancient tree, she made it into the excavated wolf den and gently laid him out on the grass as some of her support staff rushed over to check on him. They rolled him onto his side, pulling at his robes and removing his mask as he convulsed and spat blood onto the ground, trying to reach for it and failing to do more then weakly grasp along the ground. They hauled his pack free of his arms, murmuring to each other as she got up and paced back and forth. At length, her form rippled as they wiped away the blood dripping from his nose. 

"Phone."

The nearest of her support staff tossed her theirs as another came forward with a robe, and she slipped it on even as she started to dial a number she knew by heart.

_"You have reached the personal voicemail of Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect. Please leave your title, number and the time of your call and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you, and have a nice day."_

"Hythlodaeus this is Eschaton _answeryourphonehesbleedinganditwontstop-_"

The line picked up, a rather groggy Rafail answering with an inquisitive grunt.

"Finally! Hades is bleeding from the nose, vomiting blood and shaking. Get up and bring a force of your own, because you my friend are about to engage in an inter-departmental emergency."

_"... Alright, alright. Step by step. What happened?"_

"I have a handful of my Enforcers heading back to the city to pick whoever you bring up-" She gestured at five of the large black wolves waiting by the entrance, and they nodded before loping up the tunnel to start heading back. She could hear the rustle of cloth in the background, and something thumped and drew a muttered curse from the Architect's Chief Enforcer. "-so tell your people not to be afraid of the giant black wolves. He lied, is the problem and not in a small way."

_"Keep him on his side. Not much to do beyond let it pass and keep him comfortable. He is expected back in sixteen hours, which depending on the severity of the lie might be impossible. Elaborate for me."_

She flicked her fingers towards Hades and then over towards the bedrooms. Two of her support staff nodded and ran to fetch a stretcher, hauling it back and easing the incoherently mumbling Architect onto it. "No, Lovely, you are in fact _not_ fine. Lahabrea dragged Elidibus out into the woods after him, and the Speaker decided to test him by asking him to tell him to his face that he doesn't meet me out here. He said he does not. Very deliberately, too." 

_"Try and get him to drink something. He will start attempting to vomit in a few hours, and if there isn't anything in his stomach it gets worse."_

"Can he die from something like this?" She followed the stretcher as it was brought into one of the side chambers, grimacing as he was eased onto the bed. 

_"He can, if such is severe enough._ _"_

"... See you when you get here."

She hung up, and _stared_ at her husband as he convulsed and coughed up another mouthful of blood before narrowing her eyes. 

* * *

Hades _hurt_. His very aether rebelled against the sin he had committed, He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, he knew what had happened, and he fought himself for every inch of control he could get. No, he would _not_ violently hurl whatever the contents of his stomach were across the soft surface he was on. He was _fine_. This was _nothing_ when compared to the safety of his wife. He was-

He was being propped up, and where everything was a smear of colour in his blurry vision two points of blue caught his focus, crystallized into clarity and held him. 

They reached into him, through him, touched every part of his aether and teased the entirity of him into attentive focus until those eyes held him like an insect in amber. The steel grey that wrapped the brilliant blue reached out, folded around him like so many slender wires before he became aware of words. He was being held, the entirety of his aether cradled as he felt the will of another bear down on him. 

He thought to fight it, and then... Recognized it. _This_ was familiar. _This_ was right. _This_ was... home. It was safety. It was enforced distance to ensure free will and brought to bear against him. 

_Calm_ murmured across him, a single word, a command, and his aether struggled to do so. He could feel it, the way one of the prices of his Secrets rebelled and tried to fight it, and for a brief moment he felt like he was going to be _sick_. Briefly, there was a flicker of _displeasure_ through those eyes, and he wanted to scream, wanted to beg, to say he was _trying_, he didn't _mean_ to be difficult-!

_What is yours, is mine._

The concepts of the words flit through him, plumbed the depths of his soul and the burden of truth shifted. Eased. His eyes fluttered shut, before he drew a deep breath and then snapped his gaze open to stare with horror at the way Eschaton swayed where she sat in front of him, lifted a hand to brush away the beginnings of her nosebleed and then pitched forward to sprawl across his lap. 

"What did you _do!?_"

He reached to pull her up somewhat, wincing as an unnatural heat bloomed with nausea through him when he moved too fast before it abruptly vanished. Everything was tinged with _blue_, and he propped her up against his shoulder even as he glanced at the few others in the room. 

"What did _she_ do?" 

"She, um... It's... Not our place to say." The member of the Eschaton's support staff closest to him poked her fingers together, and he stared at the carrot-orange soul in disbelief. The rest were starting to leave, muttering back and forth about the likelihood of separating them. 

"She invoked something dangerous." Lupine yellow eyes stared at Emet-Selch from the door, and the Architect snapped his gaze over to the white-haired Enforcer that stood there, scowling. "I told her you were a bad idea."

"Yes, well she doubtless told you she simply did not _care_. I would have been _fine_ with enough time. Make her undo it."

"None of us can, as she never chose a second. Yours will be here shortly, and has been briefed on the situation."

"A second-? You mean to say that after hundreds of years she has yet to choose a Chief Admin for the Agricultural-?" Emet-Selch snapped his gaze down towards the quietly teeheeing Eschaton that was propped against his shoulder. "My dear, for all of your brilliance you certainly have your _moments_."

"We Eschaon are stury. Sturdy. Escha_ton_. Oof, that... Hit more that I thought it would." She roused slightly, squinting over towards the door. "Rialdo? Good. I can hold this for the night. Have you begin preparations?"

"What do you think I am, you? Of course I have. Everything important is already on it's way to the next outpost." The Enforcer at the door tossed his head before stepping back as the last of the support staff left the room. "Everything will be cleared out before his Enforcers get here."

"Good. You and yours need to comb the woods, make sure Lahabrea and Elidibus are nowhere near this place. Go."

He curled his upper lip in a snarl, but turned to exit the room and leave the two of them alone. She sucked in a breath, before letting it out slowly. 

"What did you do, my dear?"

"I rooted you." She tilted her head back to peer at him, reaching up to idly thumb some of the blood off of his face even as she grimaced. "It isn't something I can explain easily. I commanded you to stop hurting, and that didn't work. So I doubled down on our bond, on our connection and rooted myself through you to siphon off the excess turmoil and strife afflicting you. I am shunting your aether through myself, devouring your pain and then feeding the result back into you. I added you to my cycle, for lack of a better term."

"'Seph, that... That is _not_ how the cycle works." He stared at her, jaw hanging slightly as he used the sleeve of his robe to wipe some of the blood from her upper lip as she grinned at him. 

"Absolutely correct. What I'm doing is an utter abomination. An affront to nature. But you could have died if I had decided against it. Hythlodaeus said you could die from lying. I can't _lose_ you, Lovely."

"You are stealing the price of my actions, my Dear. Hythlodaeus was _greatly_ over exaggerating. I would have been _sick_, certainly, but with time..." Trailing off, he huffed a soft sigh and shook his head carefully, disliking the way his world threatened to spin as he did. "... You said you commanded me."

"I tried to. It... The secret is called 'King of the Jungle'. Anything within my domain _must_ obey to the best of their ability, and is the active state of the passive 'Commanding Presence'. Such is not a secret I enjoy employing but a cursory inspection revealed that there was nothing physically to heal. I thought perhaps if I imposed order on your aether it would stop tearing itself apart." She grimaced. "... I wanted to surprise you with something completely different, but I suppose this will do."

"How... Many Secrets does the Eschaton have?" He frowned at her, brows furrowing.

"Sixteen currently. Thereabouts, at least, and maybe half of them mastered which is part of the reason why I spend so much time outside of the city. Many of them are dangerous. Why, how many do you have?" Persephone cleared her throat slightly, fighting the urge to cough as she shifted to get more comfortable. 

"Six. I have _six_. Why do you have so many?"

"Because Eschaton is... Complicated. Four seasons, four kingdoms, two archetypes. Certainly, we might be called 'Botanist', however... That isn't exactly the title attached to us." 

"I had wondered. 'Botanist' seemed rather disconnected from much of the animal-based abilities you seem to have. I will not ask for the list of your Secrets, my Dear. fret not. But I will ask what exactly the name is intended to mean." Emet-Selch shifted to put his back against the headboard, bringing her with him and huffing a soft sound as she winced. He could see her aether, see the way it was splintering and putting itself back together at a rapid pace, and felt his lips curl into a pained grimace despite the way he couldn't feel any of it. 

"Hunter. Sort of. Such is the easiest way to translate. To use more than one word, Eschaton is 'the one that brings the end and carries the strength of the past into the future to continue the cycle'. So... Hunter, to being the end. To devour the strength of prey and carry that strength into the future and continue the cycle. Herald of the End, Harbinger, there were a few variations. People started to fear us, however, so we stuck to 'Botanist' and the general populace was made to forget. Over the generations, the other Convocation members seemed to forget as well. Largely on purpose." Persephone glanced over towards the door, before tucking her head back down on his shoulder. "Raf's here."

Hades grimaced and sighed. 

"Of _course_ you had him brought here."

"He's your Chief Enforcer, and above that _our best friend._ Of course I had him brought here. Who else am I going to convince to act as your double in the coming Convocation meetings?"

* * *

She waved as the two people she cherished the most in the world ambled off, surrounded by people dedicated and loyal to them. Once they were out of sight, she slowly lowered her hand and sighed, reaching up to rub at her temples a one of her Enforcers came up beside her. Lupine yellow eyes studied her, before looking out into the woods. His name was a hazy smear across her memory, and she sighed.

"What did it cost you, to do what you did? What did your Burden take from you this time?"

"Almost the entirety of the last two weeks. Ryan?"

"Rialdo." 

"Good _grief_." Eschaton made a face, grimacing and blecking at the way she was mentally re-mapping connections and interactions with her Enforcers.

"You should choose me as your second." 

"This feels like a conversation we had before." She turned back towards the now empty den, frowning. "You know why I won't do that." 

"You would lose less if you shared the Burden."

"Not exactly how that works, and you know it. I would just have an easier time using the Living Memory to recover it. You saw what happened to my Uncle after Da retired. All of that was stripped from him and he had to relearn how to speak. I refuse to allow that to happen to any of you." She smiled slightly, before stretching. "Besides. Emet-Selch acts as my second well enough. He cannot forget, and my Living Memory picks up enough off of him that regardless of how much I lose, I will always remember."

"Which is the only reason we Enforcers allow him so much leeway." Rialdo growled, baring his teeth. "We put up with this because we must and because you want us to, Percy. You are our Alpha. If he hurts you, then there is no force on this Star that will protect him from our fangs."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She smiled, and together they turned away from the abandoned den to make for the next closest outpost. "Hunt with me on the way?"

He grinned, white hair bleeding to black as the form of a great shaggy wolf overtook his own. She stretched, robes shredding as her own expanded and destroyed the cheap cloth. They jostled against one another, before taking off at a ground-eating pace, noses to the wind. Two beasts, hurtling through the night with the easy grace of predators, dancing among the trees. 


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One beta, we die like friends

The Warrior stretched idly, yawning wide as she wandered the halls of Azys Lla. She had left to go and get a shower and change her clothes so that she wasn't dripping voidsent ichor everywhere, and was now on her way (more or less) to the large chamber that they had picked to have meetings in. There was the matter of what to do with the refugees in the long term, and she was mighty curious about the lizard-thing that had joined her in the middle of the voidsent. 

A hand touched her shoulder, and she practically leapt out of her skin as she spun and sheathed the sword she had drawn just as quickly as it had appeared. One eye twitching behind her mask, she stared at Emet-Selch as he quirked a brow, looking a mix of amused and taken aback.

"Don't-_please_ don't startle me like that, Hades. I'm used to my Echo picking up on people near by, and you've got _no_ idea how unnerving it is for folks to be able to sneak up on me. I really -am- gunna have to put a bell on you." 

"Elidibus volunteered to handle the logistics of the refugees on your behalf. Lahabrea is seeing to the defenses and coordinating with Kel'louch. Igeyorhm is tending to Pashtarot and Halmarut is on stand-by as messenger in the event anything world-ending happens. Come with me. Adventure can spare you for a few hours, can it not?"

She squinted at him. "Suspicious. You're scheming something."

"Not nearly as frequently as I have been prone to in the past, but yes. I am." He folded his arms, huffing softly as he looked away. "... I will admit, and have admitted, that I have _erred_. You know this. Consider this a bribe, an attempt to earn some small measure of forgiveness if you will."

"... Alright, I'll bite." The Warrior quirked a brow, straightening slightly as a smirk crossed her face. "You're still exhausted though. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"-Please-, I may be tired but 'tis nothing compared to the state I was in once Elidibus roused me post Garlemald." Pale gold eyes rolled, and he turned slightly to offer her his arm. She eyed it contemplatively, before sighing and stepping closer to hook her arm around his. 

"How long _did_ you get to sleep, by the way?" She tilted her head as he led her through a rift, stepping out onto a balcony and then through another one to a familiar local. She perked up, recognizing a few of the people there as regulars and spotting Aymeric sitting at the counter. "Borel? What're you doing here? This is the Forgotten Knight, isn't it?"

"I received word that you might be stopping by for a few drinks." He gestured to the others within the establishment, and she smiled sheepishly as a handful of off-duty knights waved at her, along with a young elezen who she had met at the equivalent of a library who was shyly hiding behind his more rambunctious huyr friend. "'Tis not much of a welcome party, but I was led to believe you would only be here for a bell or so." 

"_Were_ you now." She tilted her head to glance up at the utterly innocent looking Emet-Selch, who met her gaze evenly and nodded towards the others. "And I suppose he's paying the tab too?'

"That he is." A gruff voice came from behind her, and she grunted as Estinien steered her towards the bar, hands on both of her shoulders. The Ascian wiggled his fingers at her, smirking as she went. "Gibrillont."

"Coming up." The barkeep smiled, amused and started to pass out drinks. A bottle was pressed into the Warrior's hands even as the dragoon leaned past her to collect a mug of the cheapest swill that was on tap. 

"Is this...? No, it can't be. Can it? Sharlayan cognac?" She stared at the bottle, before looking over at Aymeric as he deftly sipped his wine and declined to answer her questions with more than a smile. "Where in the seven hells did you find this?"

"Who cares? Open the sodding bottle and get on with it." Estinien jostled her, and she snickered as she did so. 

* * *

The Waking Sands, the Drowning Wench, the Carline Canopy. Idyllshire, Rhalgr's Reach and the Doman enclave. Two hours in each location, spent enjoying the company of old friends and new, food and drink galore. They shared stories, before he inevitably drew her away to say her goodbyes and then whisk her off to the next location. They ended up in the Seventh Heaven, where she sprawled in a chair and hummed contently to herself, eyes closed as Tataru chatted away with her. The Architect took the opportunity to reach out to Emmerololth and watch them through the window as they met up outside the building. 

"For all that you had me watch Elidibus, it seems that you might need someone to stop you from making stupid decisions on your own. You look like you have pushed yourself beyond the point of exhaustion." 

"I have." came the tired admittance as Emet-Selch leaned against the side of the building and leaned his head against the window frame. "But look at her. Look at the joy my work has wrought. You cannot tell me that a passing moment of exhaustion can compare to this."

"Good grief, you truly are a fool in love." The words lacked venom, more of a gentle chiding that had the Architect rolling pale gold eyes. 

"What of it? At least I have made more progress than _you_ have." He shook his head slightly, before sighing. "... I require your advice."

"I might be disinclined to give you any, considering what you just said." She folded her arms, before sighing as he turned an utterly unamused, exhausted stare her way. "... Alright, fine. What is it."

He thought about threatening her. He even opened his mouth to do so, but it struck him as somewhat unwise to do so when he was asking her for help. Instead, he closed his mouth to think over the question as he looked back through the window. 

"Say that you are one of three in a relationship. Say that thousands of years pass before the potential for the three of you to be together properly surfaces. Say that you do something incredibly _stupid_ such as jump the proverbial gun after rebuilding your relationship with one, by finding the other and aiding them when they are frustrated and seeking completion. Say too that you overlooked the fact that neither of these other two are aware of their relationship, and that while one is entirely willing, another is afflicted with a feeling of betrayal. What would you do to rectify the situation?"

"I knew it. She was angry at you, wasn't she. What did you do?" The Water Bearer unfolded her arms, leaning in to glance between Emet-Selch and the Warrior as the latter laughed inside the building at something the lalafell had said. The Architect shot her a withering glare, and Emmerololth raised her hands defensively. "I could feel her mood from here."

"... I _touched_ someone with intent." She leaned back, eyes widening slightly as Emet-Selch scowled at her. "-_Don't- _look at me like that. I know perfectly well what you would say. Simply advise me on how to _fix_ this."

"You are _bonded_ with her. How...?" The Water Bearer coughed delicately as the scowl sharpened into a glare. "Two years, on average, is how long takes for the sting of this thing to fade. Make sure she knows the truth, and make sure that you refrain from blaming her for her emotions. The only other advice I have for you is be as open and honest as you can with her. She might... Never trust you again."

"Two years..." Hades stared though the window, expression smoothing into something rather more sad than irritated, and he huffed a soft sigh as he slumped. "... So be it." 

* * *

"As much fun as this was, Scilla what's wrong?" Tataru leaned forward, hands wrapped about her drink as their laughter stopped. The Warrior tensed, before clearing her throat. 

"Well, I mean first off what's makin' you ask that." 

"You've spent more time looking at your drink than _drinking_ it. Always a bad sign, there. Plus I _know_ you." The lalafell gestured towards her, as if to indicate... Well, everything about the Warrior. "You started to tidy yourself up. You were holding yourself differently. Now, you're as tense as you were when we were sheltered in the Waking Sands."

She grimaced, before leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. Reaching up, she carefully removed the mask and set it down, tilting it so that it looked like it was watching her as she idly swirled her drink in her glass. "... Emet-Selch and I are... Fighting, I guess you could say. Sort of. More he's fucked up and he's trying to make it right and... And I dunno."

"You don't know?" Tataru frowned, taking a sip from her mug and then setting it down, staring at the Warrior intently. "What happened? You know you can tell me _anything_. Don't worry. Not a soul will hear it from me."

"... Alright. But if this gets out, I'm piling every pillow you own outside by the aetherite and setting them on fire." Waggling a finger at the lalafell, Priscilla sighed and hunched where she sat. "... He cheated on me, but sort of... Not? But did? I don't know. It's... I should start at what I can best guess is sort've the beginning." 

"You know a fair bit about Amaurot, yeah? We tried to share as much information with you about it as we could. And, y'know, people's souls and all keep getting reborn, so it's only normal for souls to meet one another yeah? But... Okay. So. Apparently? Before the sundering, I mean, you know he and I were a thing then, that's sort of common knowledge now. But apparently there was a, uhh... There was a _third_. And I didn't know that until just recently. And the Architect did, and knew who it was, and did a _thing_ with them." 

"A _thing_?" 

"I wish I didn't know. But... So I found out, and yeah I was _angry_, and we all sat down and talked about it. 'Cause I'd asked King for if he really _had_ been dreaming of both've us? And apparently he had been?" The Warrior grimaced, pinking across the face as she looked down at her drink and idly studied her reflection in the liquid. "... So... Nothing... Really got resolved, aside from me not being absolutely _livid_ any more. And, um... Then... He went off, to go and jack off, 'cause he was thinking about it, and then..."

"And then you went and joined in."

"Aaand then I went and joined in. 'Cause I still couldn't believe it, and Emet-Selch said he really was, and so we went there and he _really_ was, and, umm..." She was starting to turn red, and hastily slammed her drink back. She set the glass down with a click, and Tataru reached forward to refill the glass from the nearby bottle. "Hoo boy. Seriously, where did he even _learn_ half of what he was doing? 'S no _way_ he'd never done anything before. I mean I expected the _Architect_ to know what he was doing, but... No hesitation. No accidental elbows to faces. Nothing went _wrong_. Except, I guess, the fact that it happened at all."

"Something tells me this is a bit more complicated then that." The lalafell sat back in her chair, sipping her drink and frowning thoughtfully. 

"It _is_. 'Cause, I dunno, I kinda... Sort've held a candle for him before? A while ago? But then he seemed to like someone else, so I buried it, but... I mean it never really _went out_. And the person they liked..."

"It's Urianger, isn't it." Priscilla hunched her shoulders, downing her drink quickly as Tataru giggled. "I knew it! You _did_ like him! And still do, it seems."

"Don't _laugh_. This is _serious_." The Warrior muttered bitterly as she refilled her drink, setting the bottle aside as she sulked. "Ha-_Emet-Selch_ did a dumb. If he can go and do that with someone else, what's to stop him from doing it again? I mean, he's 'burdened by the truth' so if he outright lies he starts bleeding from the nose and such, and yeah he said Urianger's the only one, but... But what if we come across a fragment of Urianger on another shard? Another piece of the original Hythlodaeus? What's gunna stop him from _touching_ again?" 

"Do you remember, the first cup of mine that you ever broke?" The lalafell finished her drink, before sighing and pointing at the slowly nodding rogue. "I used molten gold to put it back together, and it's _beautiful_. But you can still see the cracks where it was broken. Trust is like that. Even if something is fixed and serviceable, you'll still see where it was broken. You can either scrap the cup, fix it with glue and pretend nothing ever happened or..."

"Or, you can fix it with something that makes it all the stronger for breaking, all the more beautiful. It will take time, it will take practice before you can put the cup back together properly and a delicate, gentle touch to make sure it doesn't get broken again, but if you don't give up then there's nothing you can't do. I'm sure you've already been asking yourself the important questions, but really, it comes down to the two - or three - of you and what everyone involved wants. And, most importantly, is _comfortable_ with." Tataru shrugged slightly, before sighing and lifted her drink, tipping it upside down as she lamented the fact that it was empty. "What will stop him from touching again? Well, if he suffers terribly when he lies, then make him swear he won't. While this might not be the best option, it might be a good place to start. Find a way to make him prove he loves you."

The Warrior hesitated, before nodding slowly. 

"I... Thank's. That... That helps, a little bit." 

* * *

"Are you ready to return to Azys Lla?" 

The Warrior perked up, before looking over at the Architect and shrugging. "Pretty much, yeah. Tataru's gone to bed for all that she'll be up in a few hours with dawn. I'd like for Emmerololth to send us back, though. You look about ready to fall over."

Emet-Selch hummed out a non-committal sound, before turning to glance towards the Water Bearer. 

"If you think his vessel looks bad, avoid looking at his aether."

"Emmerololth, be thankful I have not the energy to spare to truly care about your opinions at the moment." 

"Which only proves her point. I _knew_ you were starting to overreach." Grousing sourly, the rogue pushed herself up and ambled over, wrapping one arm around her Ascian's waist as the Water Bearer opened a rift. "Thanks, yeah? I appreciate you helping me get him home in one piece." 

"Don't mention it." They were offered a smile and a wave as they made their way through the patch of darkness, stepping out onto the balcony and starting to make their way back to his rooms. Each was largely silent for the trip, leaning against one another before they stepped into his quarters where the vessel she had her arm around made his way to the couch to sit down next to the one that was there already, dozing peacefully. 

"Whatcha doing?"

"Preparing to sleep. I thought it obvious." 

The Warrior shifted to the bedroom and peered in, blinking at the empty bed and then looking back at the four Emet-Selch's in the living room. "... Oookay? Something wrong with the bed?"

He glanced over at her, and then tipped his head back to study the ceiling. 

"... You are still angry with me, are you not?" 

"Not wrong, but..." She scrubbed a hand across her face, before sighing and meandering over to plop down between the two vessels on the couch. The one he was inhabiting at the moment jerked slightly, before resting a hand on her shoulder as she flopped over and got comfortable, kicking her feet up onto the lap of the other one. 

"What _are_ you doing, little Monster." 

"Gettin' comfy. Problem?" She peered up at him as she snuggled herself comfortably across his lap. He stared down at her for a long moment, before sighing and tipping his head back once more. 

"... Quite the opposite, if I am to be honest." 

"Look. I know what you were trying to do. And... Yeah, it sort've worked. But I really wish you wouldn't push yourself like that. You're already tired, and you're just gunna make me worry about you and then get angry that I'm worrying about you when I shouldn't have to 'cause I won't be able to tell if you're really trying to help me just go out and relax or if you're deliberately sabotaging yourself so that I -have- to worry about you." She rolled slightly, so that she could peer up at him. "I'm still not... Ready, to accept a third person into this. But... It's all muddled, because I'm meeting it from this point in time and you're meeting it from Amaurot, aren't you. That's what tripped you, 'cause you looked at me and saw me accepting the past, and then looked at him and then thought everything would be like it was, didn't you."

"... I did." 

"But from my perspective, this life is the one that takes importance 'cause it's the one I'm living right now. 'Cause it's the one forefront in my mind, and everything else I'm learning. This is my 'foundation' that I'm workin' from, and I'm building off it as I go." She reached to snag one of his hands and plop it against her head, and he took the hint to start shifting his fingers through her hair. "... Y'know, you said you'd swear on your true name, that you'd never do it again. Not asking you to, just... D'you really feel that way?"

"_Unhesitatingly._ You mean everything to me, little Monster, and while I would appreciate if these words never left this room... The thought of _losing_ you absolutely terrifies me. I watched you disappear after making the second biggest mistake in my life when I gave you an ultimatum, and then the very next time I saw you, you threw yourself off of a _cliff_ and tore yourself asunder to bring Hydaelyn into this world." His fingers stilled in her hair, and she blinked as he tilted his head to stare down at her, lips pulled into an unhappy frown.

"... If that was the second biggest mistake, what was the first?" The Warrior reached to idly search for his other hand, and on finding it brought it to her lips so that she could idly press her lips against his knuckles. 

Emet-Selch huffed quietly. "Not _leaving_ the Convocation when you did."

"That's fair. Things might not have turned out the same way but... I dunno. I think you would've been happier. But... For what it's worth, I'm glad you stuck with them." He blinked at her, before giving her an utterly confused look. "Wait, here me out. Without you surviving the ages, tempered or not, I'd have no way to know anything that happened, right? And if you hadn't been with them, they would've hunted you down right? Probably tried to kill you permanently. Or at least scatter you so that you weren't able to fight them. And then I'd have nobody to get echo flashes of those times before time from. You _remembered_ for me, for all that it hurt. It's not like Lahabrea tried to remind me."

"Little Monster-" 

"I'm _glad_ you lived." The Warrior smiled at him, gently, and the Ascian hesitated before shifting and curling to lean down and gently brush his lips against hers. She shifted one hand up to cup the side of his face, before shifting to get comfortable and closing her eyes. "Now go to sleep, alright?" 

"... As you wish, my dear."

Her smile grew slightly as she let herself drift off to sleep.


	95. Chapter 95

She woke slowly, to the feeling of being subtly shifted. Cracking an eye open, she mumbled an incoherent inquiry and Emet-Selch froze. All of is vessels did, really, and as she started to take better stock of the situation she could have laughed. 

One was prone under her, arms under hers before they looped loosely over her stomach and the shifting that had woken her had been another tucking in between herself and the couch to throw an arm over her. Another sat on the floor, leaning against the couch and with one of her arms pulled against his chest as he sheepishly almost pouted. The fourth was stretched out along the back of the couch, and as she glanced up at him hunched his shoulders and side-eyed her from where he was pillowing his face with the crook of his arm. 

"Y'like a soddin' group-a _cats_." He didn't say anything, but three arms tightened about her torso while the vessel on the floor pressed her hand against his face and nuzzled it. She frowned faintly, shifting to free her other arm from where it was pinned against her side to loop it around the body between her and the back of the couch. A tilt of her head had her other eye open, and she blinked her focus from one to the other. "... Bad dream?"

"It happens." Came the rough answer from under her, and she hummed quietly. 

"Mmh. Well... Still here. So..." She nudged the one against her side with her shoulder, and he lifted his face slightly so that she could shift enough to press a soft kiss against his lips. "... Bad dream proven wrong." 

"You don't even know what the dream was _about_." The vessel on the floor muttered the words against her hand, definitely sulking now, and she chuckled as she tucked her forehead against the face she had kissed. 

"Look, you're draped about me like I might disappear. You don't have to tell me, I can figure some've it out just from that." 

"... I needed to touch you, to prove that you were real." A gloved hand reached down from the back of the couch, and he gently brushed his knuckles against the side of her face as she tipped her head up and idly pressed a kiss against the tip of his thumb. "T'was not my intent to wake you."

"Mmh. Intent're no, you still did. Acceptable this time, though, I slept for a bit at least. What about you? Nightmare aside, feel any better?" 

"Marginally. Give me but a few days and I will have recovered to the point where further lounging about will be pointless. I am well aware of how poorly you deal with boredom." His tone had turned wry at the end, and she snickered quietly. 

"Reminds me, I gotta get you to coordinate with Cid and Nero about technology. The Ironworks could benefit from you, y'know." The Warrior shifted to study the vessel along the back of the couch, quirking a brow as he nodded once.

"Consider it done." 

"Just like that? No hesitation, no 'working with others is tedius'?" 

He shrugged slightly, brushing his knuckles along the side of her face once more with a tired sigh. "'Tis what you want, and I am in no position to argue. Not that I wish to. To bring the current set of civilizations to a more proper level of technology will do more good than ill, provided everyone can survive long enough to fully make the transition. Sanitation, infrastructure, electricity, these are staples of civilization. With them, we might be able to protect this Star." 

"Cid's got a good head on his shoulders, he'll be able to figure out where to apply what. You... Realize this means he'll probably have to look at your blueprints, right?" She frowned faintly, brows furrowing as he nodded once. "Okay, Hades, if you're just doing this to appease me then stop. If it's going to make you uncomfortable-"

"It _does_, but such is also a _necessity_, little Monster. If I share with them my blueprints for barriers and other defensive measures, the crellbron will have more leeway with regards to their plan to shield this Star. If we Ascians share our knowledge of such things as advanced medicine and agriculture, then we may yet begin to balance the scale and earn the right for some modicum of forgiveness regarding all of the lives we have taken. 'Tis not as if I am to open my_ library_ to them, such would simply overwhelm them and they would find themselves unable to make heads nor tails of any of it. Garlond and Scavea are two of the brightest of the current generation, and already recognized and hailed by the masses. Garlemald and your Ironworks are the two best bets to ease the rest of civilization into the early stages of a technological age." 

"All of these are good points, but-" She quieted as he tucked a finger against her lips.

"-But your concern is that my driving motivation for such is simply to ensure that I stay on your good side and appease you, in an attempt to make up for my latest _blunder_." The vessel along the back of the couch sighed softly. "... I will admit, such was an _idea_, however that is _not_ the way to go about it. Should you have asked me to do this thing at any other time, I would have still expressed a willingness to do so, grudging as it might have been." 

"... Alright." Her frown eased somewhat as his finger shifted to idly tap her on the nose. She blinked as he did so, before quirking a brow as the vessel she was sprawled out atop hummed a quietly amused tone. "What, what's funny now?"

"You continuously call me _intelligent_. I was simply mentally balancing such against how greatly I erred." 

"Well, I mean you _are_. There's different types of smarts though." She reached up to return the favour, tapping the nose of the vessel tucked between her and the back of the couch. He scrunched up his face as she did. "For example, most've this magitek stuff goes right over my head. But show me a chocobo and I can have it jumping through hoops like nobody's business."

"I should certainly hope so. You Created them, after all and not the _easy_ way either. You selectively bred for certain traits while tampering with their genetic structure to ensure inbreeding would not occur. They were originally what you would refer to as an 'axebeak'. But I digress." The vessel sitting on the floor sighed softly, picking up where the one she was reclined on left off. "... I want to _touch_ you." 

"You _are_ touching me." The Warrior tilted her face to glance to her left, meeting the eyes of the one that had spoken last. He pouted, before dropping his gaze. "... I know. Not what you meant. Why should I _let_ you, though?" 

He didn't immediately answer, and she sighed before pulling herself free of his grasp so that she could carefully shift and roll, orienting on the vessel that had been underneath her as she partially straddled his lap. Four sets of pale gold eyes watched her, and she scrubbed a hand back through her hair and pull her mask free of her face, reaching to balance it on the arm of the couch. 

"What am I gunna _do_ with you, Hades." The Warrior shook her head idly, sighing and staring down at him. "Vessels don't matter. Vessels do matter. Sex does matter, except that it doesn't because it's the _soul_ bits that are important. But it _does_ because it's intimacy in and of itself. So what is it? What's true? What's an exaggeration? What's said for my benefit, what's said to protect yourself?"

"_You_ matter." Emet-Selch frowned faintly. 

"And so do you. Yet, you've managed to say some pretty contradictory things, mister 'burdened by the truth'. So let's parse this out. Why do vessels matter? Because they are our containers. Because they are the first line of interaction. But, to you, they're also expendable right?" She studied his expression, noting the way his brows had started to furrow as he nodded. "But you got upset when Elidibus stole them. So not -that- expendable, after all." 

"... I see where you are attempting to lead me with this line of thought." A contemplative look had settled across his features, and reached to try and settle a pair of hands on her hips only to blink and jerk his hands away as she slapped at them. 

"Hands on your chest. All of them." The Warrior lifted her chin, and her lips quirked into a smile as eight hands were tucked against the chest of the Ascian she was straddling. "Cheeky. But acceptable for now. So. Not expendable, because clearly you care about them. You care about mine, after all, enough that when I repeatedly die you start to get tense and jittery. You also said that it... What was it you said, word for word? About it being okay to like what your vessel looked like?"

"Hmm. Something to the effect of-"

"I don't _want_ a loose, easily twisted meaning. I want it word for word. You said it yourself, you remember everything you paid attention to." She narrowed her eyes, and he frowned faintly up at her, hunching his shoulders slightly. 

"... That 'tis not actually a shallow thing. That I spent a great deal of work on making my vessel look a very specific way. That to have it appreciated stokes my ego."

"Good." She leaned down to place a gentle kiss against his lips, and he hummed out a quiet, appreciative sound as she drew back. Some of the tension had eased from his frame, and the vessel that was tucked against the back of the couch shifted to prop himself up somewhat. "So. We've established that vessels - that _bodies_, do matter. You worry about me and mine, and you take pride in your own. Nothing expendable there. But you, tricksy, manipulative bastard that you are, keep convincing yourself that the body doesn't _really_ matter. I think it's because you're scared of what happens after mine actually dies. Because you shed the body you belonged in, and locked it away in your Vault. Because these clones might as well be another mask or set've clothes for you, I'd bet. Are any of these points off the mark?"

"They are all fairly accurate, however-"

She plopped a hand over his mouth, and he hushed. "If my body doesn't really _matter_, then why would I let you _touch_ it? If sex doesn't matter, which I've a feeling you were going to hide behind in your own head about the Urianger thing, then why should I _ever_ get naked with you? If the soul bits are all that matter, then what, exactly, is the point of physical intimacy? Of hugs from behind, of making breakfast? Think on that carefully, and answer me truthfully. I'll wait." 

He stared up at her, licking his lips slightly as she drew her hand away and folded her arms. The answer was staring him in the face, and with a soft, defeated sigh he dropped his gaze. 

"Because... it does matter. All of it." 

"Good." The Warrior leaned to her left, gently kissing the vessel balanced on the back of the couch. "That's all I wanted. That's a good enough_ reason_ for now." 

"... To allow me to touch you?" The lips she had just kissed pulled slightly into a frown as his brows furrowed, studying her, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Yes, Hades, seven hells. Slow on the uptake if you've gotta ask tha-" She let her words dissolve into a pleased hum as the vessel he had last spoken through reached to cup the sides of her face and pull her back in for another kiss. The body trapped between her and the back of the couch shifted, working his way free so that he could settle behind her and tuck his face against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her even as the vessel they straddled settled his hands on her hips. The one on the floor reached out to grasp her hand and bring it to his face, pressing it against her cheek with a rough sigh. 

"You are _absolutely_ correct, in that it matters." The musing came quietly from behind her, and the vessel that spoke unwound her scarf from about her neck even as the one along the back of the couch pulled her slightly to her left for another kiss. Hands were teasing through her clothes, divesting her of a glove here, a belt there, even as the ones on her hips shifted up to start undoing her coat. "It matters because it is _you_. It matters because it is the first line of interaction. It matters for countless tiny things and it has _always_ mattered. Every time I see your scars, it _matters_. Because each one of those marks is a time I was not _there_, and this _infuriates_ me."

"Even if you had been, you know you couldn't've done much. You would've been tempered for pretty much all of them." The Warrior lifted her arms as her shirt was tugged upwards, baring her from the waist up and carelessly tossed aside so that the vessel that had been sitting on the floor could kiss his way up her side. Hands roamed, mapping the scars along her ribs before settling over the ones caused by Eden Prime, where the one behind her tipped his face down and growled against her neck. 

"I could have done something for _these_. I should have been able to. I was _there_." He nipped idly along the side of her throat, and she tipped her head to the side with a slight grin, though it faded as he smoothed two hands across her collarbones and sighed. "... I still could, although I am... Hesitant to offer. It is _your_ vessel. For all that you cannot shape it as you wish-"

"I can, actually."

"_What_." The word came indignantly from the vessel she straddled, and she glanced down to smile sheepishly at the Ascian that was staring her as if she had grown a second head. "You could have gotten rid of them _this entire time__._"

"I mean, it's a super rare potion and all, but technically? The super rich indulge in it. I never saw a point to it though, considering I'm just going to get _more_ scars. Besides, I never really had a reason to care before about what someone else thought. D'you... D'you really think they're that bad?" The rogue glanced down at herself, frowning faintly until the vessel on the back of the couch reached out to pull her face back towards his and kissed her tenderly. 

"... I will not lie and say that I _dislike_ them. However, I thought that they must pull awkwardly, or might remind you of times better left forgotten. Do they not hurt?" 

"Sometimes. But, I dunno. It sort've got to the point where I just ignored it, right? And... They're reminders. Reminders of every single person I could've saved but failed to." She smiled sadly for a moment, before yelping as the vessel that had been standing to her right scooped her up. "What're you doing?" 

"The couch is simply _too small_, and you are still wearing pants." He huffed out an indignant sound as he turned and swept towards the bedroom. She glanced back as she wrapped her arms around his neck, chuckling as the three left behind started to shed their clothing as quickly as they could, one turning to help the other as they got tangled up in one of the sleeves. "-Please-, as if you could do any better." 

"I probably couldn't, you got me there." The Warrior wiggled slightly as he set her on the edge of the bed, smiling softly as he shifted back and knelt, removing first one of her boots and then the other. Reaching forward, he finished loosening her belts and then slid them down as she obligingly shifted, pants and all to leave her in her small clothes. "Missed a layer."

"Oh for the love of... You are just _insufferable_. I am _attempting_ to be deviously sexy, little Monster-" 

"I know, and I'm trying to make it difficult. Remove them with your _teeth_." 

The Architect stared at her for a moment, pinking slightly across the cheeks before he shifted closer and nosed his way up the inside of one of her thighs. Gloved hands settled on the bed, on either side of her hips, and he let his heavy lidded gaze trail up her torso. Teeth found the edge of her small clothes, and she obligingly lifted her hips, leaning back on her elbows so that he could tug them down an ilm at a time.

She held his gaze, ignoring for the time being the way the mattress dipped slightly with the addition of the other vessels, instead swallowing slightly and clearing her throat as he tugged the garment past her knees and then leaned back to let gravity take them the rest of the way to the floor. He nosed his way back up along the inside of her thighs as hands and mouths descended upon her, two of them moving to prop her up enough that a third could tuck in behind her and start to mark her with his lips, and she bit back a quiet groan. 

"A good start." 

"Precisely. A good _start_." The clothed Ascian offered her a smirk, before lifting one hand to his mouth. His teeth caught the tip of first one finger, then the rest, tugging lightly to remove it before he kissed a path to the apex of her thighs. His first lick was long and slow, tongue delving between her folds before he started in earnest, drawing a deeper groan from her. It was repeated as she was cradled between the two vessels that flanked her as one of them focused on one breast and the other kissed along her jaw and turned her face enough that he could capture her lips with his own. 

He knew everywhere to _touch_, and that fact alone had her shifting and reaching up and back to weave her fingers through the soft head of hair that was tucked against the side of her neck, leaving a random pattern of small red marks. The other hand worked it's way down to find the hair of the clothed vessel, who let out a soft hummed out chuckle as she tugged lightly. 

"I want... Mmh~." She shivered as lips found her other nipple, teeth scraping lightly across it before tugging lightly. She fisted her fingers in the hair of the one behind her, pulling enough that he grunted and leaned over her shoulder somewhat as she turned her face and nipped at his lower lip. "... I want... To _watch_ you." 

His breath caught, and the one between her legs groaned. He tried to move away but she tightened her grip in his hair to keep him in place, legs hooking over his shoulders to help as she stared at the vessel that was still leaned over her shoulder and swallowing dryly. 

"I want to watch -this- one." The Warrior let go of the one behind her, and he shifted backwards before scrambling to get off of the bed, disappearing into the living room before coming back with a chair. He cast about for a moment, trying to get the best line of sight before setting it down and seating himself while the other two shifted beside her to help keep her propped up, each with an arm across her back and a hand settled on the back of her hips. One lifted his head, drawing in a ragged breath as he started to mouth along the edge of her jaw as his hand replaced where his lips had lingered. 

She grinned at him, all teeth as he lounged against the back of the chair, fingers smoothing along his abdomen before curling around his length and slowly pumping as he shifted between her legs so that he could slide a finger in under where his tongue flexed within her. When a second was added, she bit her lip, and when he shifted his lips up so that he could circle his tongue about her clit she failed to stifle the groan that he teased out of her. The sound had him shift in his seat, and his lips parted as he took a deeper breath, trying to keep himself focused.

He matched the speed of his fingers within her, and she shuddered as he started to curl the fingers upwards almost as much as he did when he swirled his thumb about the tip of his shaft. She drank in the sight of him using his other hand to cup and massage himself, her free hand moving to cup the face of the vessel to her left. He went from her shoulder to her lips with the barest of prompts, and she kept her head angled so that she could continue to watch the one on the chair as he squirmed under her scrutiny. 

"Twelve you are just... _gorgeous_. Splayed out on a chair, red faced a-hnn~..." The Warrior ground against his face as he added a third finger, tilting her head back slightly so that he could resume nipping along her throat, the vessel that had been working on her breasts shifting so that he could kiss a path across to her neglected one and lightly drag his nails along the upper part of her breast. "... Just... _look_ at you, licking your lips slightly, biting your lower lip as you watch me _watching_ you." 

"A shared _trait._" His answer was practically growled out against her throat as he scraped his teeth lightly across the pulse point beneath her ear, drawing a shudder from her before he continued. "You are _quite_ the delectable sight, little Monster. Look how you _writhe_..." 

As if to prove his point, he sucked idly on her clit and sent her bucking and cursing against his face, and the vessel on the chair moaned and worked himself harder for each motion of her hips. His eyes had turned to molten gold as he did, and he grit his teeth as he fought to keep himself controlled as she tugged on the hair of the one between her thighs. 

"_Again_." The word was a breathy command, and he groaned before committing himself, fingers curling upwards. Her breath caught, back arching while her nails found purchase in one of his shoulders, and he shuddered as he fought his peak, fought a four-fold war as she hissed out his name and _lost_. Spilling himself across his knuckles and the bedspread, he moaned as she writhed against his mouth, coming undone at the sight of him. Slowly, her thighs loosened from where they were clamped against his head, and she loosed her fingers from the hair of his kneeling vessel so that he could rock back and sit down heavily, panting for breath. and licking his fingers clean. 

The room was still and quiet for a long moment, before she loosely beckoned towards the two that weren't on the bed. 

"... C'mere. I think... I think a nap is in order. And then food." 

"Oh, I don't know about that. I just _ate_ after all."

"Ass_hat_."

He smirked at that, but tiredly hauled himself up so that he could settle all four of his vessels around her. It took a few moments to adjust limbs and snap his fingers to clean up, but the bed was large and at length she was contently snuggled between them all and slowly drifting off to the faint chorus of snores that she couldn't help but tiredly, quietly snicker at. 


	96. Chapter 96

"So." She stared at the kitchen, before glancing back at the vessel that was yawning widely and rubbing the palm of one hand against his eye. The Warrior reached out idly to feel the white fur-like material that edged the rest of the soft fabric of his housecoat, and he quirked a brow in amusement as he let both of his arms hang down limply. "Keep in mind, I'm -really- good at following instructions. And the last time it was _Nero_ giving me those instructions so of _course_ everything went sideways. So sit down, and tell me what to do, step by step." 

"Careful with your words, little Monster, lest I deliberately twist them." One corner of his lips curled upwards before he sauntered past to plop down onto a chair. folding his arms on the table, he pillowed his head atop them and surveyed the kitchen idly. "Did you discover what the kettle was?"

"I did. Was what I started with, actually, 'cause I was lookin' for a way to boil water for hot chocolate." She beamed, before ambling over to lift the kettle free of the base before making her way to the sink. Partly filling it with water, she made sure to turn the tap back off before meandering back and carefully settling it back onto it's base and turning it on. A mildly impressed hum from the man at the table answered her actions, and she glanced over to see he had shifted to prop his chin up on a fist. 

"Well done. This may be easier than I expected. Something simple..." A quiet huff of amusement eased out of him as his eyes wandered the closed cupboards while he mentally recounted what he had. "Oatmeal? Pancakes would likely be beyond your current level of skill. _Eggs_ seem to be something of a favourite of yours to destroy..."

"Hey, I can boil eggs. I've done it before. Believe it or not, I actually figured out how to _poach_ them. And I figured that out with _your_ kitchen." The Warrior lifted her chin, and he _ohhh_'d dramatically, waggling his eyebrows. 

"By your leave, then. If nothing else, while I observe is the _least_ dangerous time for you to be left to your own devices." 

"Right. Quick question though, how d'I make toast here?" She glanced around, before opening the breadbox to pull out a partial loaf. She drew one of her swords and brought it to bear before he ah'd and stopped her. "What."

"I have _seen_ the things you use that blade on, little Monster."

"Yeah, and? It's a good blade, and I pity the tool used only to bring _death._ It's clean, I'll lick it t'prove it too." The Warrior turned and flourished the blade, before turning to the side and promptly licking the flat of it as Hades let out a quiet sound of disgust. "See? Clean."

"Use it for your _own_ toast then. But use a proper, sanitized knife when you cut a slice for me."

She rolled her eyes, before setting the sword atop the counter and leaning to root through the knife block until she came up with an appropriate one and set to work cutting a few slices free from the loaf. "Ya big _baby_. You know right well how much time I spend cleaning my swords." 

"Yes, and I hardly think that the oil you use for them was meant for _consumption_." Hades idly drummed his fingers against the table, watching and idly drawling his words. "I wonder if this method of poaching eggs you have devised is truly one that allows food to retain an edible state of being. Toaster is the rectangular silver piece the size of your head, plugged into the wall near the kettle. Simply tuck them into the slits along the top, and then press the lever on the front down. Do _not_ stick anything else into them." 

The Warrior offered him a salute, before turning to pull the toaster a little closer and proceeded to do as she was told. It took a moment for her to figure out that the toast should go in lengthwise, and she shot the Ascian an exasperated look as he went from stifling snickers to looking innocently off to his left. "After this, I'll ask Igeyorhm to take you to the Ironworks so that you can run over some stuff with Cid and his crew. I figure it shouldn't be too strenuous, and you can rest while you give them the basics. I've got some stuff I need to work on myself, too, so this would be a good time for me to have Halmarut haul me around the countryside." 

"Oh very well..." Emet-Selch sighed softly, pouting as he watched her cross to the fridge and lever it open so that she could recover a block of butter, the jug of milk and a pair of eggs. "What shall occupy your time, I wonder."

"I wanna check in with Merlwyb, Lyse, Hien and the others. I mean, sure I saw them all just recently but that was bar hopping. This is gunna be a business call. I've also gotta bring Kel'louch to Zenos, so that his crellbron can take a look at the magitek there and go about doing the 'shield the star' thing. " She set everything down before pulling open a cupboard to retrieve two plates and three cups, setting them aside and fishing through a drawer for a spoon, a fork and a knife. One of the eggs was cracked and poured into one of the cups, before she made her way over to the microwave to set it inside and set the timer for twenty seconds. Hades watched, baffled and slowly straightening where he sat, brows furrowed. "I got a chore list that's surprisingly long, actually. I also wanna talk with Scentkin-thingy, too."

"Whatever _are_ you doing?" Leaning slightly to get a better look as she stopped the microwave, hauled out the mug and then used a spoon to flip the contents only to stuff it right back in. One of the plates was carefully flipped over and settled over the mug, and she flashed him a grin. 

"Plate's to make sure it doesn't explode all over the inside of the hotbox. I'm fake poaching an egg-" The toaster popped, and she set the microwave after she closed the door and left it so that she could start buttering toast and tucking them onto the remaining plate. "Just about done. Thankfully, Halmarut showed me where you keep the instant coffee." 

"_Microwave_. 'Tis called a microwave, not a hotbox." The microwave beeped, and she ambled back over to open it and pull out the mug and the plate. The latter was set aside while she held the cup over one of the pieces of toast and used the spoon to carefully dig out the contents in a solid piece. It plopped down, a perfect circle of white surrounding a mostly cooked yolk, and she set everything aside so that she could truck the whole thing over to him. "... You _cannot_ be serious."

"Just needs a little bit've salt, but that lives on the table and I dunno how much you might want to put on it." She smiled at him, suddenly nervous as he stared down at it and then let out a soft laugh...

_("Good grief, I won't have time to cook anything now...!" She grouched as she bustled through the kitchen, even as he staggered out of the bathroom, trying to towel his hair and grunting as he glanced at the clock. _

_"The coffee should be ready. 'Tis enough for me-"_

_"**No.** It was my turn to make you breakfast, Hades, and make you breakfast I shall. Go get your robes on, it should all be done before you get back out here." _

_The Architect knew better than to argue, and by the time he stepped back out and was adjusting his mask he blinked at the round circle of egg on a piece of toast. A mug of coffee was settled next to it, ready and waiting for him as his wife hustled past him to change out of the housecoat she was wearing and into her own robes. _

_"Lovely, stop staring at it and get going.")_

"... 'Tis fine without it, little Monster. Make yourself one, and do not forget to bring the requirements for a _decent_ cup of coffee over while up and about?"

She smiled at him, and for the first time in a week Emet-Selch truly felt that everything might just turn out alright after all.

* * *

"Y'know, I'm always impressed by how normal you lot look without the robes and masks." The Warrior poked at the dark-skinned hyur that had stepped out of the rift with her, clad in plain traveling clothes and wearing a hat that would keep his head warm. He smiled at her, an easy slow flash of white on black as he reached to idly stroke through his beard. 

"I have worn many forms over the years, but this one has always been a favourite of mine." 

"You wear it well. Wait for me in the Fallen Knight? That's the bar, just up the stairs there and then to the east. I'll find you when I'm ready to head out. Should take a few hours." Pointing with one hand, she patted him on the back before they waved and split up. The Warrior oriented herself after a dozen paces, before turning to start scrambling up the nearest building and picking her way across the rooftops. 

There it was. A familiar balcony. She slid down an incline and kicked off to clear the gap, touching down lightly and then rapping her knuckles against the door. It took a moment for her to catch a flicker of movement through the frosted glass, and she beamed as the balcony door cracked open. She didn't wait for the person to step back, instead surging through to wrap her arms around the cream-colour dress clad hyur.

"Canary! I want to extend a cordial invitation in two parts! I'm glad I caught you at home." The Warrior beamed as the dusky skinned woman smiled at her, kicking the door closed with a heel even as she broke away to amble further in and flop down into a chair. "I promised you I'd look you up if ever there was a need, and I've a _need_." 

The owner of the building pressed her lips together in a tolerant, amused smile, fingers flicking through a series of hand signs that had the rogue snickering. 

"Nah. Something close, though, and only 'cause I expect to get bushwhacked at some point. Tataru's gunna want t'stuff me into something _girly_, but I want you t'coordinate with her to make sure I've got somewhere to put a number've shivs. Won't be for a while yet, but I wanted to give you a heads up in the event that you wanted t'say no." 

Dark eyes widened, before Canary's fingers flicked through another series of patterns. 

"Well _duh_. What else would I need a dress for-?" The Warrior held her hands up as the huyr rasped out a rough chuckle and came forward to take her by the shoulders, pulling her towards the stairs. "Aww c'mon!"

A hand flicked over her shoulder, signing the word 'measure' in front of her face and she laughed as she lowered her hands and made her way down the stairs. 

"Alright, alright. But I've gotta run to Aymeric's after. And you gotta _promise_ to write to Tataru, okay? She'll tan my hide if you start anything without talking to her first. Yuri still apprenticing there?" 

The weaver smiled, looking proud as she nodded and pulled the Warrior in front of a full length mirror. 

"Good. Lad's got a good future ahead of him. I'll give him your love, yeah?"

Canary smiled softly, even as she pulled a measuring tape out of thin air and got to work.

* * *

Aymeric _never_ left the window of his office locked any more. There wasn't much of a point, considering if it wasn't Estinien breaking and entering, it was Priscilla. It was also how she found him face-down on a stack of paperwork, shifting slightly as the cold air from outside roused him and lifting his head as she closed the window behind her. 

"Hey. Bad time?" 

"I would say your timely intervention is nothing short of a blessing." A quick once-over of the paperwork drew a relieved sigh from the elezen as he found an utter lack of any drool-induced dampness. "What brings you to Ishgard, my friend?"

"I wanna bring some folks by to check out the wards that were built using dragon eyes. I don't plan to go about carving eyeballs out of anything to fuel them, but they were playing with the idea that maybe we could protect the Star using something similar. Huge undertaking, not sustainable, but..." The Warrior trailed off, shrugging as she brushed some snow from her clothes. 

"But a prospect worth panning out. Of course, whatever you need. When shall they arrive?" Paperwork was shuffled and set aside, before the elezen paused and blinked at the round chunk of blue crystal she pulled from a pocket.

"Right now if you're free."

"A moment, then." Pushing himself up from the desk, Aymeric made his way to the door and cracked it open so that he could stick his head out into the hall. "Yuri, my door is officially closed to all save for Lucia. Is this understood?"

"Yes Ser-"

"Ey! Yuri! Your mom says hi!" The Warrior bound over, squirming between Aymeric and the doorjamb to beam at the young hyur who went just a bit red with embarrassment. "She loves you! Seven hells, if I'd known you were on door duty today I'd've used the stairs like a regular person. Don't worry though, this shouldn't take too long." 

"Of course not. Thank you, Yuri." They both pulled back into the office so that the Lord Commander could sigh and close the door. "One day, you are going to traumatize the wrong person and I'm going to have to explain why one of my assistants have passed out on the floor." 

"Eh, he'll be fine." Lobbing the eye lightly into the air, it drifted and floated to a stop before abruptly vanishing. In it's place floated Kel'louch, who stared at her with his remaining eye. 

"Is this him, then?"

"I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't. Aymeric, this is Kel'louch. I've only ever seen him touch the ground once on this world, and that was when he fell down. Warmage, this is Ser Aymeric de Borel, my second favourite non-scion elezen."

"Second favourite? Who replaced me?" He quirked a brow, before turning to offer the floating emaciated figure a polite bow. The bandage-wrapped and blue clad visitor inclined his head in a polite response.

"Estinien, when he pressed a bottle've cognac into my hands. Kel'louch is something called a crellbron. It's like a ghost possessing it's own corpse, from what I gather." The Warrior squinted at Kel'louch, who shrugged slightly. 

"It matters not. What matters is that you have managed to shield your city in the past from the advance of others. Speak to me of this thing." 

"Yeah, he's sorta pushy." She offered the elezen a sheepish smile as he circled his desk and sat down in his chair, chuckling. 

"Certainly nothing I have yet to weather." The Lord Commander turned his attention to his floating visitor, and steepled his fingers as he began to describe the defenses that had warded his city.

* * *

Emet-Selch paused, mid-description of one of a handful of methods to resolve some of the issues he had implemented into the premise of Garlean magitek when he had built the empire with the intent to ruin it. There had been a brief feeling of warmth against the far-removed piece of him, gentle, and he took a moment to glance down at the schema in front of him, focusing on that tiny fragment. There, again, was the warmth, and he shivered slightly at the cold that followed it. There was snow, there was a half-formed image of an open window, and laughter before a sensation of _movement_. He would have worried that she had thrown the piece away if not for how he could feel the warmth of her skin against the opposite side of the crystal. The movement halted, and another brief feeling of warmth slid along the tiny piece of him that she carried, drawing a slight smile across the face of the vessel he wore. 

"... Emet-Selch?"

The Architect blinked, before huffing out a quiet sound and sliding the diagram across to the white and blond haired scientists across from him, looking at Nero in particular.

"Just my little Monster, being a far-flung distraction. But _you_ would know about _that_, wouldn't you. You still _owe_ me for the damage done to my _kitchen_, and you inadvertently allowed her to drink _cleaning products_. But I digress, Scaeva, we can settle that matter another time. As I was saying, however, it would behove you to swap production to these materials..."


	97. Chapter 97

"So, what, exactly, _are_ you?"

"Scentkin."

"That tells me a whole lotta nothin'." The Warrior frowned at the lizard-like creature that was perched on a practically vertical surface and was garnering quite a bit of envy. "Were you person-shaped once?"

"Person?" The elongated muzzle tipped, and she blinked as they threw back their head and roughly coughed out a series of sounds before slinking closer and reaching out with a claw to tap her on the forehead-

_(-two hands, tiny, that reached up to grasp for an only slightly larger person with-)_

_(-fangs, fangs and choking _**_sick_****_ness_**_ and they were taking bites out of it almost as quickly as it was taking bites out of_ _**them** and then something **clicked**. Their fangs grew, their body replenished itself with a sudden surge that had them just... so **hungry**-__)_

_("Devourer." The word was whispered in a revenant tone as they ate and ate and ate, and when they turned to blink at the smallkin that were their pack, they knew they had done **good** because their pack was **safe**. But they were tired. And so, with a belly full of meat, they slept.)_

The claw withdrew, and the Warrior stared blankly out at nothing for a long moment. 

"Did... Did you just trigger my Echo, or... or did you feed those memories to me."

"Easy, for scentkin. One is other." The Devourer made a show of sniffing themself before sniffing her, and she idly patted the muzzle. 

"... Oh. Oh! You're- Oh that makes so much more sense. Scentkin. You're a fragment of me." 

"Star-eyed End is _slow_." The muzzle retreated as the lizard-like creature rearranged all six legs to better anchor to the featureless flat plane of metal they were inexplicably clinging to, and she had a distinct feeling that the way they were canting their head to the side and tucking their nose towards their chest meant laughter. 

"_Ouch_. Coming from you, that _hurts_. Say, why d'you call me Star-eyed?" The Warrior tilted her head, idly swinging her legs over the ledge as her conversation partner rumbled and thrummed. The tail, a long, flexible thing flicked around to tap her on the shoulder-

_(Ten thousand and one moments compacted and overlapped into a single instant. A figure, indistinct and blurred, overlaid with countless faces and frames constantly getting knocked down. Each time, they would rise as numerous new pieces of possibility, recovering, moving ever onward. Death stalked them from the shadows, a constant, silent specter of a companion as they stood tall. It didn't matter what the rest of them looked like, what visage overlaid the space that they occupied, for it was the eyes that blazed like stars with the force of their determination-_ _) _

The Warrior jerked back, grunting as she caught herself to avoid pitching off her precarious perch. "Stop-_Stop_ that." 

The Devourer trilled, confused, head tilting as she sighed. 

* * *

"Did you consider-"

"Scaeva, I will _literally_ throw you _through the wall_ if you make one more inane suggestion. I have _tried_ integrating the technology from Omega. It simply _does not work_." Emet-Selch kept his eyes closed, a notebook balanced on his face to block out the worst of the harsh overhead lights. "The end result destroyed itself after barely a bell once it had an existential crisis."

"But-"

"-I _tried_ altering the environmental variables. Seventy four _sodding_ times. Besides, Zodiark Himself is a particularly good example as to why 'tis a _terrible_ idea to give something of this nature sentience. You do not _want_ an artificial intelligence running the power grid of a _building_, let alone a city, continent or world." He could hear the Garlean scientist pacing, could practically taste the frustration coming off of him in waves while Garlond stared at the ceiling from where he was stretched out on the floor. A harder read, more introspective than anything. Something to be considered later, the Ascian surmised. "Give something of that size a proverbial brain, and it inevitably begins to slide too far to one side or another, either by way of believing the general populace to be so inept as to be unable to take care of itself - which is a horrible way for any civilization to die, take it from me - or it begins to believe that such is beyond saving. And then attempts to _purge_. Which is _also_ a horrible way for any civilization to die."

"Personal experience, again?'

"I have built and destroyed more civilizations than you could _name_, boy." Sighing, Emet-Selch lifted the book from his face and tilted his head to eye the blond scientist. "But I digress. We have moved _far_ beyond my purpose here. Simply because a thing can be done, does not mean that it _should_. Learn from my mistakes, if nothing else. I have done naught but give you both great gifts for a handspan of days, and-

The door opened, and he blinked before abruptly straightening, brows furrowing as Zenos strode in. 

"Great-grandfather."

"Great-grandson. Well, they really _will_ let just about anyone in here it seems. Why are you here?"

"I came for them, not you. Nan Garlond, Tol Scaeva, you are to return to Garlemald-"

"Zenos, fool boy, you cannot simply _order_ people you do not _own_." The Ascian rolled his eyes, tucking the book back into place atop his face and twitching slightly as the current Emperor swatted it off. Lips curling into a snarl, the Architect started to draw himself up before blinking and leaning to peer around the swordsman.

"It is not I that wishes this thing." Smirking, Zenos partly turned to look back at where the Warrior was eyeing the threshold and then waving to Cid. 

"Hey! Am, uhh... Am I still banned?" 

"Very." The white-haired scientist relaxed and made his way to the door, grinning as she pouted and then threw her arms around him in a hug. "Alright, now give it back." 

She broke away, before offering him out his flask, which he accepted and then held out his hand. The Warrior tried to look innocent for a moment before heaving a sigh and dropping a small metal key into his grasp. "You're no fun." 

"Learn to properly drive and I might let you borrow her, but not a moment sooner. Now what's this I hear about Garlemald?" Tucking the key away, Cid folded his arms and eyed her as she shrugged with one shoulder. 

"Crellbron think they might have something. Zenos has promised your and Nero's safety for the entirety of your stay, and you're free to leave again after. Meantime, I need my Architect. I've been fighting non stop for some twelve beeding bells because SOMEBODY THOUGHT THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO DO THEM ALL AT ONCE-" She leaned to turn and yell at the blond swordsman, who simply grinned viciously back at her. "-and it's his turn to carry me around." 

Emet-Selch tutted as he swept past his descendant, slowing as he approached and leaning slightly as he surveyed her. Fading yellow about one eye, an ever so slight lean to one side and her aether was surprisingly still. "Fighting fit, if a bit shabby. No weapons, I presume?" 

"Yeah, it was just... Drawn out." She smiled faintly, before sighing contently as he stooped and scooped her up. "Get any rest?" 

"I am much recovered." The Ascian swept out, giving Halmarut a curt not before starting to drift upwards so that he could make it up onto the roof. "I may have slept for an entire twenty four bell period, but the power nap is _not_ to be underestimated. You said the crellbron may have something?"

"Yeah, sounds about right. And yeah. Because a sustained shield would be incredibly hard to maintain, they think they might be able to rig up a surge-type counter. Which, I mean, the _theory_ seems sound? But I'm hardly an expert. Pashtarot's recovering, and at Elidibus-post-cleaving levels of mobile. Turns out, he's even worse than the Emissary when it comes to resting, but Igeyorhm threatened to turn back into a chocobo and _sit_ on him, so that bought an extra day of rest for him. The crellbron set up some sort've mirror thing to allow people to talk at a distance, sort've like a linkpearl but it's one mirror per person in the conversation, and each one can be heard by the others. What else happened..." She closed her eyes, tucking her face against her shoulder with a sigh. "Tomorrow. Prima Vista's rendition of Amaurot is t'morrow, noon in Doma. We gotta go back to Ishgard too, I want you to meet the Count de Fortemps..."

"My, you _have_ been busy." 

"'Course." The Warrior stifled a yawn with one hand, before closing her eyes and sighing. "Last two days've been non-stop with Zenos, though. We played forty two rounds of Triple Triad, under the agreement that each one he won would be a bell we would fight, and then we got into the real match of what way to turn Garlemald. Which took four bells. And I'm pretty sure we're running out of time. Lahabrea and Elidibus went to check on things, and said the portal looked almost complete, and that was a day ago. Which, we had an idea." 

"Why am I rather suddenly stricken with the sense that I will _not_ like this idea." Emet-Selch frowned down at her, arms tightening slightly to better hoard her against his chest. She hummed out a quiet, conversational sound. 

"Probably 'cause you _won't_. Our best bet is, after I've slept, I get dropped off in front of the portal and dance until my feet bleed." 

"You are _not_ a weapon. Who came up with this-... T'was _your_ idea, wasn't it." His frown deepened, and she cracked an eye open to peer up and meet his gaze. 

"Was."

"What happened to 'nothing expendable'? There comes a point where overwhelming numbers simply cannot be _stopped_, little Monster." 

"I know. I _know_. It's not meant to be a permanent thing. It'll be my job to kill as many've them as I can, thin their numbers while somebody sabotages their portal. Lahabrea and Elidibus swore up and down that I'd only be allowed to go if they went, and Halmarut told me he'd douse me in malboro saliva if I tried to get sent there on my own. And Pashtarot poked his head into the room and told me that if I was going off to kill voidsent, that as the Champion he was uniquely suited to _fighting_. When he shouldn't even be _walking_." 

"If _anyone _is to make this journey with you, it should be me." 

"Good, 'cause I was sort've hoping you would say that. If anyone could figure out how to take their portal apart, it'd be you. And... Ahh, hells." The Warrior grimaced, before shifting and pulling a small box out of a pocket. "Waiting _sucks_, and I dunno how much longer the world'll be around. Here." 

Emet-Selch blinked, before settling her sideways across his lap to free up his hands, taking the box and peering at it curiously. A brief study with his aether had him snapping his gaze to the rogue, who smiled slightly. 

"Go on. Open it."

Carefully, mindful of how easy it would be to drop the box, the Architect opened it and stared down at the ring of bone and the smooth piece of pale blue crystal, a single swirl of grey turning and curling slowly within the confines of the shard. Delicately taking it between a thumb and forefinger, he lifted it and _stared_ at it. 

"I was gunna wait until the Amaurot premier, but... Well, as I said, I dunno how much longer the world'll be around, and it's not like we're gunna make it to the play." 

"You... You _foolish_ little Monster. I told you-"

"I know. But y'know, even if I die - and I mean _really_ die, won't it be easier to find me with it? Even if I can't feel through it the way you can, it's important to me." She nudged him gently, and he curled his fingers around it to tuck it into his aether, safely away from any mishaps that might befall his vessel. "'Sides, you gave me part've your heart. It's only proper I give you part've mine too."


	98. Chapter 98

They decided to re-shuffle what Ascian was where. Fandaniel and Mitron would swap out with Pashtarot, who would continue to recover within the Crystal Tower on the First and defend it as best he could with Ryne, Thancred and the Exarch. Halmarut would remain at the Rising Stones to continue defending that ever important portal between the First and the Source, and Igeyorhm would remain in Azys Lla with the Devourer and the refugees. The crellbron had already spread out across Othard, Aldenard and Ilsabard to work on their own tasks. 

Which left the Warrior, the three Paragons, Emmerololth, Fandaniel, Lohgrif and Mitron available for the trip. 

Urianger felt it was patently unfair, but when he tried to bring it up she simply stared at him until he sighed and dropped the matter. He thought of the likelihood of being able to convince one of them to bring him along anyways, but the Architect caught his eye and subtly shook his head. There was a _reason_ the Ascians made up practically all of the team. They could abandon the bodies and flee if needed, which gave them an ever so slightly higher chance of _surviving_ the assault. The Warrior was going simply because none of them had the option to leave her behind, and there was an unspoken agreement that any one of the Ascians would, if necessary, simply grab her and _run_ if it came down to it whether she wanted to or not. 

The elezen would receive no such benefit, and should he die on the First there was nothing they could do. And so he sat, and he watched, and he idly thumbed across the chunk of crystal that Lahabrea had given him. 

_("Hydaelyn's gift to you. I could not say what it contains, other than it seems to be memories of some kind. Use it, or do not, my task is fulfilled.")_

How much would it change him, he wondered. Priscilla had yet to show any true signs of a difference in her personality, but he lacked a proper grasp of how many of those memories she had recovered. How many memories were within the crystal? Who could say? Would the memories of Hythlodaeus overwrite his own? Replace them? Or would they simply add to them? 

He pushed himself up and made his way to his rooms, thoughts turning as he studied the problem from every possible angle. No, he would find no answers re-treading the mental paths he had already traveled. There was only one way to discern what would happen, and that was to try. 

Sitting down at the table, he cupped his hands around the crystal, and _focused_. 

* * *

Each of them had their own task. The Warrior would work to kill as many of them as she could, the Architect would pick apart the portal. Elidibus and Lahabrea would support Eschaton, while the sundered would help to keep Emet-Selch safe and give him time to do what he needed to undisturbed. Mitron raised his hands, clearing his throat. 

"Is... Is everyone ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be, I think." The Warrior turned to survey everyone, before tilting her head. "Look, before we go, I just wanna make sure we're clear. If we start losing folks, everyone gets out. I know you're all a bit harder to kill than the average person, but with how they've already whacked Halmarut and Pashtarot, I'm worried about what else they'll have. They know what they're fighting just as much as we do. Now, in the event that this actually _works_, I'd like to have a secondary objective. Elidibus walked me through the layout of the home he made on the moon. There's a path that leads to an exposed part of the fragment of Zodiark. If we're in good enough shape by the time Emet-Selch finishes tearing the portal down, then I want to go and see what I can do to get the souls out've there." 

"Little Monster, we barely have anything _prepared_ for that aspect of the plan." The Architect frowned, hunching his shoulders, and she gave him a sheepish smile. 

"I know. And that _sucks_ but if we can haul out even a dozen that makes Him that much weaker and might lessen his ability to command the voidsent.. I've got an idea, but I'll probably need to get carried back. I _know_ you can do this, and I know you can do this without getting screwed over with everyone helping to protect us. However, if you don't think you're ready then I'm not gunna push, yeah? We can always try and go back later. You know yourself, you know your limits and what you're comfortable with." She smiled at him, and his frown only deepened as she stretched idly, tucking her hands atop her head. "I think I've got it figured out, too. How t'hit him without wakin' him up, at least. But I don't have anything _solid_ until I actually get up there." 

"We will work with what we have, and follow your lead." Elidibus inclined his head politely, before glancing at Emet-Selch. "Which means we needs must know how you feel about exposing yourself nigh directly to Him."

"Nothing I would care to _voice_, at the very least." The Architect huffed, folding his arms as he mulled it over. "... What it truly comes down to, is how strong His pull will be. Emmerololth did not venture too far into your lair, but you admitted that you felt a stronger than usual nostalgia which indicates there was _some_ sort of intention for you to return to Him suffusing the air. If such should not be too difficult of a hurdle to overcome, and we are not exhausted by our efforts, then we shall see what we can do." 

She beamed at him, before turning towards Mitron. 

"Alright, Traveler. Take us away."

The youngest of the Convocation members grimaced, but nodded and turned to the open space before them, swiftly weaving a rift.

Eschaton went first, and when she hit the ground on the other side the world was largely what she remembered it to be. Eternal twilight, a world of umbral-touched colours, chunks of stone floating and a large, red-black moon set high in the sky. Irony of ironies, Mitron had opened his rift where the arch for the portal was. This would give them a few fulms of room to work with, she reasoned, even as she traced a thumb down the middle of her mask. Startled, masked faces looked up at her and were replaced with their aetheric presences, and she drew both blades even as she continued her momentum. 

For the Ascians, the sundered, tempered non-convocation members, she swatted with the flats of the blades to tear the aether that did not belong free of them like so many cobwebs from a doorway, but when she came to the first voidsent... She didn't know what she was looking at, at first, and had just about walked into it before Lahabrea swept past and tangled with whatever it was. She backpedaled for a moment, dismissing the aetheric sight and then dropping abruptly to the ground under a heavy horizontal swipe of a scythe. Not the best of starts, but as she glanced back she noted Mitron was rapidly collecting the fallen, freed Ascians and vanishing. 

"Thanks! Was blind for a moment!" 

An intricate trident waved at her, before he flicked a hand out and then up, pulling a barricade of ice into being. She didn't bother to spare him a further glance, moving out to start her work in earnest, while the rest of the Ascians stepped out of the rift and started to spread out. 

Emet-Selch studiously ignored the conflict that raged around him. He stared at the rift as Mitron rushed too and fro to clear who could be saved, while the others fanned out about the portal to catch any of the voidsent that slipped through the cracks of the outer ring of offensive chaos. The Traveler didn't seem to have noticed yet, that none of them were maintaining it any more, and as he traced the aether in the air he sighed softly. It _technically_ matched the blueprints. Technically. In regards to the size and shape of it, but little more. It was an anchor point, designed to intercept a rift and hold it while using a modified version of a _door_ sensor to send a signal elsewhere. 

The worst part, was that he couldn't close it. Not without causing it to collapse in on itself, which would likely crater the entire area and level part of Azys Lla. He could see where aether fed into it to power it, but it was drawing from _everywhere_. No, he realized, as he caught the way Elidibus paused and glanced off to study the distance. That was not the worst part. The worst part was the mass of aether he was picking up, further out that was heading their way. 

"Emmerololth, support Lahabrea and tell him the bulk of the defenses are his. Fandaniel, Lohgrif, support Elidibus and tell the Eschaton to watch her flanks. Mitron!" Reaching out, he snagged the Traveler's shoulder as he zipped past, pulling him to an abruptly halt. "Do you have _anything_ to mitigate the collapse of a rift?"

"I can slow it! But that... That's about it. Otherwise I might be able to just redirect it to another point, which might re-stabilize it." He frowned, teal eyes fliting about before he blinked at the rift and turning somewhat pale. "It... Who is powering it?" 

"Nobody. This was a trap, and the portal was an anchor point. If we can close it without destroying everything on either end of the rift, I can disable the platform. Otherwise, the only thing that might peacefully shut it down is itself." He grimaced, turning to contemplate it once more and ignoring the way shards of ice began to launch, rapid-fire into the air from where the Speaker and Water-Bearer were working to thin the growing cloud above them. "Hmm. Remain here, ensure Eschaton is allowed to work unimpeded."

"Wait, but you-?"

Emet-Selch snapped his fingers, pulling his staff out of thin air and turned to ignore the Traveler as he dropped off the platform and gestured out towards where he could see his little Monster, spinning and dodging, hacking away and grinning under the mask. He flicked a hand up, palm out, and pulled into being several chunks of crystal that began to hum, sending a series of aether-blasts out to clear the immediate area around her. 

"Overkill! You gotta pace yourself!" 

"I will. I cannot disarm the portal without destroying the immediate area. We Paragons and otherwise will hold the line. Perhaps you will have better luck with it than I will but be _careful! _'Tis liable to explode." He dipped into a partial bow as she skipped past him, before starting to drift upwards, already a partial gesture into his next spell. 

* * *

_"If you are seeing this, then I have long since passed into the Underworld. Fear not, for this is a natural thing. My body, and soul, have laboured for ten and three years to bring this to bear and I would have it no other way." Pale gold eyes smiled tiredly out from under a white mask, what was revealed of the face wrinkled and lined with advanced age. _

_"I am Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect to the public eye, and Head Enforcer among those that know of such things. My name is Rafail, and as a child I was hand-picked to assist in the nurturing and grooming of the one known as Hades, just as he was chosen for the same task in regards to myself. We have grown up together, we have fought, laughed, cried, and loved. But these things are not important, beyond the fact that they did indeed occur." _

_"I am dying. I have perhaps a week left, and Hades knows it. He knows it, he cannot bring himself to curse **her** for my mortality and he knows too that it is only because of her that I have lasted as long as I have. I do not bring this thing up, because I swore to him that I would not only protect him, but..."_

_"I promised to do what I could to protect her where he could not. He is incapable of mourning me, torn between his love for her and the influence of our new god as he is. Maybe he will one day, however until then ours is the most difficult job of all. Both of them are idiots. For all that I was created to be his other half, she has drawn him into her orbit as surely as a star holds a moon captive. Made from the same base, the same stock as Hades, how could I not follow the inevitable path? How could I succeed, where he has failed?" _

_"I cannot. He will watch her. I too, must watch her, but I must do this thing without him becoming aware of such. It is my wish, to Hydaelyn, that She would allow me to be reborn into such a position as one might to support her from the shadows. And should it come to pass that I must step out into the light, I leave behind this key, so that should my soul find it once more in the far distant future that I might use it to finish what I started."_

_"The soul, after all, never truly forgets. H_ _owever..." _

_Rafail sighed, before removing his mask. The hood was pushed back, revealing long locks of pale white hair with a single, faded wine-dark forelock. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he smiled faintly._

_"However, you may not share these feelings. Simply because you are my soul, does not mean that you have come to have the same feelings for either of them that I hold. She was always a firm believer in choice, after all, and it would be remiss of me to take that away from you. My knowledge, what of it I have been able to engrave into this stone, is yours regardless of what you choose to do with it. All that I ask, is that you consider my wish. Think about it, before you disregard it. Ponder the last wishes of an old ghost." _

_"Good luck."_

Urianger woke abruptly with a _pounding_ headache. He _knew_ things. He _knew_ he knew them. Ways to twist aether, methods to weave spells, he knew _Secrets_. The chunk of crystal had been a soulstone, with ancient knowledge that resonated with his very soul, and while he had gained no new memories of Hythlodaeus beyond the message left for him, he had gained an inherent understanding that had him clutching his head and chest. Closing his eyes, he sorted through his thoughts before pushing himself up and making his way out to where the Ascians had initially made the rift. 

Halmarut was staring at it, stroking his beard and frowning faintly. 

"Weaver."

"Ah, Urianger. I find myself presented with quite the mystery." The Ascian gestured to the rift, before folding his arms. "What do you make of this."

"An Ascian rift, utilized to send most of thy companions to the Thirteenth shard." 

"Just so. And open for far longer than it should be. I have a feeling something is wrong, and trying to close it has failed." The Weaver tilted his head to the side, still studying the softly swirling mass of black in the middle of the balcony.

Urianger frowned at it, a sense of unease growing in his gut.


	99. Chapter 99

Igeyorhm stared at the rift. 

It was still open. This was bad. This meant that things could come through from the other side. Had Mitron left it open on purpose? Speaking of the Traveler, he popped through and gently laid an unconscious Ascian down, turning and running back through the rift. 

"Mitron wai-"

He came through again, and she reached out to try and get his attention as he set down another black masked Ascian and disappeared back through it.

"Tra-..."

"Dark-touched." A crellbron drifted into the room, and she sighed as she lowered her hand and instead turned to start healing the people recovered as best she could. "We have a problem." 

"Multiple, it would seem. Speak freely." She turned slightly to glance at the floating figure, frowning as she identified the individual. Kel'trei, she recalled, and frowned under her mask. 

"Dark-touched magic, coiling about yon local moon and a thinning of the aether. Kel'louch would have come to tell such to thyself but he is yet beholden to far... I believe thou didst call it 'Garlemald'. We hath failed thus far to iden... ti... fy..." The crellbron trailed off, staring at the rift, before holding up a hand. A shimmer of ice coated his fingers before thickening into a flat pane of it as Mitron popped through and set two more down, turning and immediately hustling back into the rift. "Attend." 

A faint hum answered him from the reflective piece of ice in his hand, and he turned it to angle it towards the portal. "Behold, Kel'louch. The _leak_."

_"Good. There had to be one somewhere. Get Halmarut to stem the flow as best he can." _

"Doth thou perchance go by the title of 'Halmarut', Dark-touched?" Kel'trei turned to address Igeyorhm, who shook her head. "Fie. Wherefor would yon Dark-touched be?"

"He guards the Rising Stones, with Tataru. We cannot leave it undefended."

"Then _'_'tis mine to defend these 'floating rocks', and thou shalt inform him of his purpose 'ere the ambient aether drains and is thus used to fuel a strike against yon Hungering Primal. In the mean time, take this. Such shall bear forth thy words to Kel'louch." The shard of ice was offered out, and she accepted it before peering down at it and blinking at the reflection of the blond, long-haired warmage that it held. 

_"Finally. I will be there shortly myself. We will need your power and the power of a Paragon, so I would suggest finding someone we can send through to fight the void-touched and free up one of them. The one with the black soul, preferably, for what we intend to do. I have someone in mind, but I doubt they will be enough. Can you do this thing?"_

* * *

Kel'louch eyed this... _Zenos_. This _Emperor_, and knew he had a useful tool. 

"Are those for show, or are you _actually_ useful in a fight." 

"Well now, what a question. My friend requested that I not engage you in combat, for the sake of futility." The blond swordsman didn't bother to look up from his paperwork, simply rubbing a hand across his forehead under his third eye as he tapped the butt end of a pen against what he was reading. Behind him sat his sword revolver, and behind that the stand with his armor. 

"Want to go and kill things?" 

Zenos slowly looked up from his paperwork, lips pulling into a wide grin, waiting for his 'guest' to continue.

"You might die. You might be left behind, doomed to a world of constant conflict." The crellbron folded his arms, drifting in mid-air and smirking.

"A _challenge_ then. Ten minutes." 

The pen was dropped, and the Emperor shrugged out of his coat even as he reached for the first piece of his armor. 

* * *

Estinien paced restlessly. There was something in the air, something that made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He had let himself into Aymeric's office about an hour ago, concerned that something might have happened to the Lord Commander only to find him working his way through a stack of paperwork. The dark-haired elezen had tried to ignore the way he paced for a solid ten minutes before setting down his quill and quirking a brow. 

"Is something the matter?" 

"Yes. _No_. Sod it all. I don't know." He pivoted, growling the words out before they both caught the flicker of darkness in the corner of the room as it grew into a rift. Igeyorhm stepped out, before holding her hands up in response to the spear that was pointed at her. 

"Peace. We have a problem, and I have come to ask your aid." The Whisperer slowly lowered her hands as the tip of the spear also dipped. "Eschaton-... The Warrior of Light went through a rift with a number of Ascians, to clear and destroy the portal that the tempered were building. Something went wrong, and the rift refuses to close. While we investigate why, they have made their move and are attempting to do something with the piece of Zodiark that hangs in our sky. I would request that the Azure Dragoon comes with me, goes through this rift to send Elidibus back to us so that we might work on resolving the situation." 

"If you _lie_, know that I will come for you first." 

"It is good then that I do not. Please, time is of the essence." She gestured back to the rift, and the dragoon glanced at the Lord Commander who was slowly pushing himself to his feet. 

"I will spread the word to make sure we know to prepare for some manner of catastrophe. As much as I might wish to go with you, my place is here." A rueful smile was offered , before the white-haired elezen grunted and strode towards the rift, disappearing into it. Igeyorhm bowed slightly, before turning to follow him in and leave Aymeric pondering just what, exactly, he should tell people to expect.

* * *

Zenos strode through the opaque swirl, after the floating dead man, carefully containing his excitement as he followed him down a hallway and then into a room with a familiar black rift. Two Ascians were there, discussing things in a language that his Resonant readily translated while two elezen stared at the portal. They all turned to face him and the crellbron as they entered the room, and he felt a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth as he recognized the dragoon that had run around Garlemald. What had his name been... 

"What's _he_ doing here." 

"Oh, a _thousand_ pardons, I thought I was bringing someone that was _useful_ in a fight, not a contestant for a beauty pageant." The crellbron shook his head, before pointing towards the rift and twisting to face the blond swordsman. "We need the one called 'Elidibus'. Send him through 'pon your arrival, and kill everything that is not allied with us."

He wasted no time, sauntering past and disappearing into the darkness, ignoring the words behind him. Instead, he drew one blade and stared down at the Warrior that was idly poking and prodding the stone that made up the archway he had stepped through. 

"My friend. 'Tis good to see you-"

_"Move._" The word was snarled out from behind him, and he remained where he was until a weight hit him from behind and physically shifted him. Turning, he lazily swatted at the dragoon and missed as Estinien bound up to land atop the arch. 

"Hey kid, Estinien. The hells brought you here?" 

"Apparently the rift refuses to be closed. They sent us through to bring back the coward and kill what we could in his place." Zenos took a few steps out, surveying the carnage and drawing a deep breath. The air _stank _with the foul, metallic tang of voidsent blood, and he let a lazy grin splay across his face as he spent a few seconds listening to the shrieks and cries of those fighting. "A worthy hunting ground indeed."

"Something like that. Would that I could be out there. Elidibus should be somewhere _that_ way- Urianger?" She perked up, frowning as the gold-eyed elezen eased past the bulk of the Garlean's armor. "Hey now, I dunno if-"

"Warrior, save thy words." He waved his hand, cutting her off and turning to start inspecting the archway. "In a moment, I shall direct thee how best to strike, and thy aim had best be true lest we all of us, here and now and 'cross the span of two worlds, simply cease to be. I presume the Architect discerned that the rift needs must be closed before he can deactivate the anchor point, and left such to you?" 

"Did... Did you _seriously_ just tell me to shut up and invite me to talk in the same breath." 

"I did." He shifted as she lightly swatted him across the arm, waving towards where Elidibus currently fought to direct Zenos out into the chaos. Estinien had already taken to the air, bouncing between the flying masses and giving Mitron the chance to drop back down and tuck one pale green sword under an arm, catching his breath. 

"Wow. I dunno whether t'be impressed or insulted. He did, to answer your question. I've thought about it, and I mean I can probably cut it? But I get the feeling that'll just make it explode, and I'm runnin' out of angles."

"Hm. Mitron, thy title grants the ability to mitigate portal mishaps, does it not?"

"It... It does." 

"Place thy recall here, and pull 'pon both ends while Halmarut and I close it from our respective ends. This should, in theory, release the destructive potential within the void, far and away from either end of the rift and allow you the ability to return here unscathed."

"How...?" The Traveler frowned, shifting uncomfortably before sighing and nodding. He planted one sword in the platform, closed his eyes and began to mutter. Urianger watched for a moment before he pulled one of the stars free from the beaded decorations he wore, cupping it between his hands as the Warrior watched and tilted her head. 

"You got this handled, then?" 

He nodded, before idly lobbing the now-glowing ornament through the rift. "I do."

"Alright, then. I'ma go provide back-up for Emet-Selch. Oh! Hey Elidibus."

"Eschaton. I have been informed I am needed in Azys Lla to take care of a problem. Would you be so kind as to aid Zenos and Estinien with my section? As formidable as they are, the reach of their arm extends only so far." He offered a slight bow as she sighed and nodded, turning to skip away. "You will close the rift once I am through?"

"Thou has the right of it." Urianger pulled another star free from his decorations, studying it as it pulsed and gained a soft glow of it's own. "Travel swiftly, Emissary." 

Elidibus offered him the same slight bow before turning and stepping through the rift.


	100. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
Wow, what a ride!  
Thank you, all of you, for coming this far with me! This chapter is the 100th chapter of J&T!  
I never thought I'd ever get this far, honestly, but with everyone's support, kudos, comments, and banter I somehow made it.  
This chapter marks the end of the story of the Joker and the Thief, but!  
BUT!  
I will continue the series with a second story!  
So while you read this, don't worry. There's more to come.  
What's an End, after all, but the Beginning of something new?

The Warrior stuck close to the dais, well within bolt range in the event that Urianger finished... Whatever he was doing. He had, after all, claimed he needed her to strike something, and for all that she wanted to wade in after Zenos the best she could do was pick off anything that got past him. Twelve, but the Garlean looked like he was having _fun_. It made her want to rush out there and steal every kill he made a moment before he made it. 

But no. She stuck close, within earshot and moped up whatever he _left_ her. Really, it would have been _infuriating_ if she hadn't already gotten a headstart. A spin wheeled her into view of the rift as it Mitron entered it, and she zipped across the uneven ground to sink two blades into a succubus. Another rotation had her checking on Urianger and habitually ducking under the gargoyle's claws as they raked across in time to catch air. One of her swords snicked out, tearing through the throat and she skipped aside as the body fell with a thud. 

What was she going to _do_ with that man. It was clear he had a _plan_ but he was up there practically alone, and she _worried_ damnit. Even if... 

Bah. No point in thinking such things now. He was raising his hands and the rift flickered, before vanishing altogether. Nothing exploded, and she swung around to avoid the patches of _ouch_ that were painting the ground to-

She spotted the cloud as it drifted closer, almost lazily, and she _recognised_ it and knew immediately that they were all in for a _bad time_. Doubly-so when she noted they had largely run out of voidsent to slaughter. The Warrior bolted up to the ichor-spattered Garlean's side and tugged on his elbow. 

"Form up, Zenos. Up onto the platform with us."

"You think I cannot take this thing?" Zenos scowled, flicking his sword to clear some of the viscous liquid from it, and she snorted before shaking her head and pulling him back with her.

"Nah, I'd lay gil on you in a fight with it any day, but there's an awful lot've squishy mages at our flanks." They both turned and clambered up onto the dais, where the other Ascians had regrouped to catch their breath under the watchful eye of Lahabrea. "Hey! So this thing can't die, and-"

"We know." came a groaned out chorus from most of them, and she blinked before glancing at the Architect, who shrugged. 

"We _are_ somewhat familiar with this location, after all. Lahabrea, Emmerololth, Fandaniel, Lohgrif, Mitron and the three mortals will hold her here. You and I have a job to do, little Monster." Emet-Selch pushed himself up, brushing himself off as Lahabrea nodded. 

"Fandaniel and Lohgrif will hold her focus. Urianger and Emmerololth, you are to ensure none of us fall. Everyone else, arrange yourselves accordingly, and try not to get hit, for the wounds of the voidsent pack a potent poison. For most of us, this is not the first time she has acted up." 

Zenos peered back at the Speaker, before gesturing out towards the cloud with a sword as a woman's head unfolded from it. "Perhaps this creature will prove a worthy trophy for my current running competition with the Warrior." 

"Doubtful, as she hath by all means defeated this entity once before. Emmerololth appears to be most adept at purging the taint caused by the voidsent." Urianger waved a hand towards Emet-Selch and the Warrior, before pushing himself to his feet and watching as the archway crumbled. "Go. We eight shall remain and hold the line."

She frowned, before shrugging and stepping up to the Architect and taking his hand, letting him pull her through the rift. 

* * *

"You... Want me to what."

Elidibus could feel a muscle in his face twitching as Kel'louch stared at him. Igeyorhm stepped forward, scowling at the crellbron. 

"What you ask, is _suicide_. Even for an Ascian-"

"Wrong. 'Tis easier to shield a smaller target, and to hide the moon and offer him as the only visible source of that type of aether is the only way such will _work_ without draining aether to the point of unsustainability. He will be -fine-." 

"He will be _dead_-"

"Whisperer." Her title eased softly from him, and both of the other Ascians in the room turned to face him. He weighed his life against the lives of those on the star, against the souls contained within Zodiark, and smiled faintly. "Peace. Kel'louch, you are adamant that none other can do this thing?"

"Correct. The aether bound within the moon is nigh indistinguishable from your own."

"The Warrior could tell him apart." Igeyorhm folded her arms, scowl deepening. "_I_ can tell the difference."

"You know what to look for and Eschaton... Often defies explanation simply by existing." The Emissary took a deep breath, before letting it out slowly, reaching up to adjust his white hood. "Follow his instructions, Whisperer. With your strength behind their barrier, my odds of survival double, do they not?" 

"But..." She faltered, frowning, and the crellbron steepled his fingers together. 

"We are running out of time. Every moment we delay is another moment that they could have already launched their strike." 

"He speaks true. You said you have a beacon?" Elidibus turned to properly face the warmage, who nodded and curled his fingers towards the doorway. Another crellbron drifted in, holding a dark metal staff that was tipped at both ends by a smooth chunk of crystal, both a dull, listless grey. It was offered out, and he accepted it easily, hefting it to test the weight. "All I must do, is settle a short distance away from our Star and defend myself. The rest of you have the difficult part, Igeyorhm. I trust that those who have perfected the art of casting in tandem and sharing their resources know what they are doing."

"Once I am done with the rift, I'll throw my strength behind yours as well." Halmarut turned to smile slightly at the Whisperer, reaching out to grip her shoulder. 

She looked far from reassured, and the Emissary offered her a slight bow before opening a rift and setting himself adrift in the weightless vacuum.

* * *

"I wonder how they're doing."

"We left less than ten minutes ago, little Monster. None of them have disappeared quite yet." The Architect rolled his eyes as he followed her at a jog through the halls, following the Warrior as she navigated the complex that Elidibus had carved out of the moon. There was air, blessedly, and she grumbled under her breath as she reached the lift. Prying the doors open, she peered down and reached to wrap an arm around his waist so that he could drop them both safely down into the darkness. He let her drop the last foot to the ground, so that she could haul open the next door and lead him down the short hall and then pause by the double doors at the end. 

"Are... How're you holding up? Hearing anything? Feeling anything?"

"A great deal of pressure, as if I was at the bottom of the ocean. With the water, I might add." He frowned faintly, before shaking his head. "Otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary. Disturbingly so, I would have thought to feel... Hmm. Well, _something_." 

"Last chance to turn back, yeah? You sure you've got this?" She stepped in, reaching up to take his hands in her own and bring them both up to her lips, pressing gentle kisses against his gloves. "This is your god. This is _Zodiark_. Yeah, I need you, but..."

"As much as I enjoy the thought of you pandering to my mental and emotional well-being, this is necessary. More than that, this is one step towards our combined goal of the restoration of our people." Emet-Selch smiled, a thin-lipped, almost pained thing, before he leaned down slightly to press a gentle kiss against her lips. Her hands shifted up to cup the sides of his face, and he drew back after a moment to look at the door. "... Now that I dwell on it, it is _most_ unusual to feel this utter lack of aether. I almost wonder if the door acts as some manner of dampening barrier." 

"Maybe, I dunno. I can't hear anything beyond it and that's weirding me out. But hey, you got the easy job right? Catch souls, hold onto them, and don't get tempered." An easy grin was aimed his way, before she turned towards the door and pressed a hand against it. A slight push, and it soundlessly opened. 

Inside was... Not what they had expected, and the wave of **_<<OBEY_** _**>>**_that rolled out hit the Architect almost as if it was a physical blow. He had a brief moment to study the room, to note the four-headed hydra-like creature that charged towards the door and the two black-masked Ascians that flanked it, before his world spun and he tipped, staggering to the side to lean against the doorframe and press a hand to his head. 

He could feel it, the pulse of his vessel pounding in his ears as the aether that choked and suffocated the room tested the boundaries of his soul. Like an animated oilslick that probed, that tested for weak points, and he groggily lifted his head as he fought to fend off the intrusion as the sound of metal ringing against metal drew part of his focus outwards. His little Monster was _fighting_, hacking and slashing and fending off fangs even as he slid to the ground, blinking and trying to focus through the way his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

** _<<OBEY>>_ **

He growled quietly and clutched his chest, feeling the quiet way the little part of _her_ that she had given him held the faint echo of her heartbeat. He watched as she cleaved through a spell, sending flashing bits of fire scattering about the two of them before a set of fangs snapped across and dug into her, and her pain flickered through that tiny piece folded within his own aether. Foggily, as if in a dream, he vaguely recalled how Halmarut had described the beast that had hit him, that had torn through his soul, and with the same sudden clarity that came with surfacing from a deep pool of water her scream imprinted itself across his sensibilities. 

Anger, sharp and hot flared through him, burning away the rest of the disorienting _weight_ that was trying to press him into docile submission, and his vessel tore with a wet sound, dropping to the ground even as two large, claw-tipped hands clamped about the monsters neck. Spiked thumbs found points just under the joint, and the jaw cracked open to drop her into two grey-skinned, more humanoid hands with a wet gurgle. 

** _<<OBEY_ ** ** _>>_ **

**<That was my WIFE!>**

He hoarded her against his chest, wings coming up to shield the bulk of his form as two more sets of teeth tore across and down. His back hit the wall, and he focused and pressed, crushing the head within his grasp. Ignoring the fire that flickered around him, he lunged forward to rake his claws across the hydras torso, catching the next head that came in to snap at him and snagging the staff to cave the skull in with a _crunch_. It staggered, and he used the brief bit of space to curl his fingers and pull an orb of aether into being on top of one of the black masked Ascians. A sweep of his hand had it surging across the room to absorb the second one, and he vibrated the air with his fury as the remaining head caught him in the shoulder and drove him down against the ground. 

The bundle in his arms _moved_, and the Warrior surged up and snapped the blade she still held up and along what she could reach of the length of it's neck. The blade dipped in as if it was passing through water, leaving a spray of blood in it's wake, but far more drastic was the damage to it's aether. It went limp, collapsing downwards, and he pushed it off of him and made it a point to crush the remaining head. 

The room went silent, after that, until she made her way to the crystal. 

"It's too late. It's already started." 

**<What have you _done_.>**

"He... He will be reunited. Rejoined. Even now, he gathers himself for the journey. You cannot _stop_ him." The black-masked Ascian giggled, and Hades twitched slightly. The orb reacted, compacting and crunching both of his captives, and he drifted for a moment before looking to the Warrior. 

**<... I would say I was sorry, but I would be lying.>**

"That's alright. I need your eyes. What did they mean?" She turned back towards the wall of red-black crystal, and the Ascian shuddered as he fought to keep from slipping back into the haze that had gripped him before. A brief scan of the aether had him cursing, and he drifted closer to reach out and delicately curl his fingers around her torso, holding her as best he could. 

**<They started the process. Within the next few minutes, this fragment of Zodiark will be sent elsewhere. Likely to His main mass above the Source. There is little and less I can do about it to stop it.>**

"Then let's lighten his load. Are you still with me?"

**<Always, little Monster.>**

She nodded, and he watched the way silver strands shifted along her damaged soul to take the outline of the original Eschaton. 

* * *

Elidibus, attuned to the Void as he was, could feel the way the aether had shifted. While he could still quite clearly _see_ the moon, it gave nothing of it's prisoner away. Instead, the incoming tide that he could feel was from farther out, and his Secrets prickled in preparation. He gripped the staff tightly, and would have taken a breath if it would have done his body any good in the empty vacuum. 

It wouldn't. Instead, he counted the seconds it would take for the rushing, screaming aether of his God to reach him, and considered prayer. Hydaelyn was too weak to answer, for all that she might have wanted to potentially give him aid. Zodiark was on his way. 

He could see it now. He thought of Eschaton. He closed his eyes and _braced_. 

The Secret of Sanctuary was not meant to be a shield. It was, by and large, meant to simply make people unable to attack him. It was something wholly based in the mentality of the ones that came against it, and what they viewed as an attack. It could be forced, by what _he_ perceived as an attack, but it was still only able to influence the one attacking him as opposed to producing any sort of a barrier. It tried to activate, found itself overwhelmed by the sheer mass of Void that impacted with him, and failed. 

The staff, however... 

It crackled, and he found himself surprised as he retained consciousness and maintained the spell that had been woven about him. It was a thing of beauty, really. Two parts shield, one part a redirection of force, one part stabilization and one part tether so that he didn't find himself knocked out of range. Supported by two Ascians, and two hundred crellbron, it held up remarkably well for all that it was starting to crack about the edges as the sustained blast pressed against him. 

** _<<obeyobeyobeystolenfrommetheystolefrommebetrayedblasphemereplenishmemyhighpriestobeyobeyobey>> _ **

He smiled faintly, and shook his head. Some part of him was privately surprised at how... Well, how _weak_ the voice and compulsion that pounded against his senses seemed to be. Still, though it lacked the pure heft of what he would have presumed twenty thousand souls would carry, he was glad when the pressure eased and he was left drifting in a cloud of slowly dissipating aether.

When nothing else seemed to he forthcoming, he reached out with his senses to try and determine if anything else was on it's way and came up empty. A glance down at the staff revealed it to be fine, and a quick pat down of himself and study of his own soul revealed only the beginning stages of tempering, and he twisted to pull open a rift and step out into Azys Lla, ignoring the quiet whisper that tickled the edge of his consciousness. Igeyorhm immediately left the crystal focus that Kel'louch cupped between his hands, coming over to him and studying him. 

"I am... Remarkably fine. The first stages of tempering, but I expected... I expected far worse." 

She relaxed, and then tensed as she turned to study the rift that opened and spilled out five tired Ascians and three exhausted mortals. A quick headcount had Halmarut settling beside her, frowning. 

"... Where are Eschaton and Emet-Selch?"

"They went to the moon." Lahabrea leaned heavily against his trident, and shook his head. "It shattered, and His aether streamed forth. I looked for them, but..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence. The expressions of everyone in the room echoed his thoughts, and for once the Emissary couldn't muster up that small, easy smile he wore as well as any mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : 3c

**Author's Note:**

> I had to. I tried really hard not to, but I read all of the amazing fanfiction about Emet-Selch and I just... Couldn't not write about it. About him.  
I miss him.  
I own not the song that the title is based on, nor ffxiv, nor Emet-Selch.  
Also! We have a discord now! Come by, lurk, chat, share memes if you like!  
Discord link is https://discord.gg/2a4bXhn


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